


love, offbeats, and other drugs

by iPhone



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Compilation, Drama, F/F, Fluff, One-Shots, Romance, Smut, Unrequited Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2019-10-11 00:32:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 44
Words: 73,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17436443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPhone/pseuds/iPhone
Summary: Compilation of Bechloe prompt responses, incomplete fics, and short-ish one-shots. Cross-posted from Tumblr.





	1. (G) my hands are shaking from holding back from you

**summary** : wedding dress shopping. drabble/one-shot.  
 **pairing** : beca/chloe  
 **word count** : 966

 

* * *

 

Chloe fiddles with her phone as she waits for Beca.

Her throat feels like there’s a constant weight, but she can only cough and clear her throat as best as she can and power through because Beca needs her to be okay.

Beca needs her to be there.

She has about a million messages from Aubrey asking her why she’s torturing herself, but she decides that she doesn’t need to respond to that at the moment because Beca has asked her to go wedding dress shopping.

It’s a gorgeous space. The sales attendants are attentive and flutter around them. Beca had been self-conscious at the attention, but she found a few dresses fairly instantaneously. Chloe tries not to look too intently at them, lest she slips into another fantasy where she’s not helping Beca, but picking out a dress of her own to marry the only person she’s ever loved.

It’s unfair that the timing never really worked out - that she was too slow, too far, and too scared to ever pursue anything.

It has plagued Chloe for as long as she’s known Beca - the fact that she’s never quite been on the same field as Beca, emotionally, physically.

Her thoughts are blissfully interrupted. “Can I get you a drink? Wine? Champagne?”

Chloe smiles tightly at the attendant-saleswoman. She’s tempted to ask for alcohol, but she wants to see things with clarity. “Water’s fine.”

“God, this dress is way too long,” Beca complains from inside the dressing room.

Chloe smiles genuinely at that, turning towards the curtains. “We’d have to cut at least half off. Maybe make another dress,” she teases.

Beca’s laugh is sarcastic, followed by a rustle. “That’s great. So I’ll get two dresses out of it.” The curtain is pulled back.

Beca glides out, dress trailing behind her, hair pinned to the side like a – like a –

“You look like a princess,” Chloe breathes, setting her phone down and standing up, though Beca doesn’t hear her because she’s focused on not tripping on the excess material.

(Chloe remembers seeing Beca for the first time - seeing her all the way across the quad and just  _knowing_  that this girl wandering around - somewhat aimlessly - was going to be a huge part of her life.)

And she does look like a princess. She looks like a tiny princess, clothed in a gorgeous white dress, flushed with happiness because she’s about to marry the love of her life.

Chloe’s smile slips at the thought, even as Beca moves closer to her. Her water remains forgotten to her side.

“Well?” Beca asks, fiddling with the ends of her hair nervously. Her eyelashes flutter as she looks up at Chloe. It’s demure, shy, and a little unlike Beca, but Chloe eats it right up. She likes the way the white makes Beca’s skin tone glow. She likes the way the room’s lights kind of make Beca’s eyes shine just a bit more. She lets herself selfishly imagine for a moment - the way Beca’s smiling a little timidly - that this is all for her. 

She fumbles back to pick up her phone, just to have something to do. She clenches her hand around it, letting the solid feeling ground her for a moment so she doesn’t reach out to cup Beca’s cheek like she wants. She focuses on the way her heart is threatening to jump out of her chest or follow the stone lodged in her throat. She’s become so accustomed to this pain and discomfort over the years that she’s learned to suppress it, but her mind and heart are both finally seething at her actions (or lack thereof), protesting with a vengeance.

“It’s – you look beautiful,” Chloe says honestly. She manages to keep her voice from wavering. The bodice fits Beca perfectly, with minimal design. It screams elegance and simplicity. It represents the years of Chloe watching Beca become the woman she is today.

“Is this the one?” Beca continues. “Do you think this will stick?”

Chloe thinks about falling asleep next to Beca during their retreat, wondering what it is Beca’s hiding from her; wondering what life will toss at them; wondering if she’s going to be a part of Beca’s life forever.

“Yeah,” Chloe says, not sure which questions she’s answering anymore. “Yeah, it’s –”

And the raw emotion bubbles over. She can’t stop it – she doesn’t know if she’d even be able to.

(She doesn’t know if the emotions have ever stopped. She’s been helpless since Beca strolled into her life without a care in the world.)

“He’s so lucky,” Chloe whispers, not intending for Beca to hear. But she does, and she looks up, eyes flashing through recognition, confusion, sympathy, and finally, concern. She takes in the expression on Chloe’s face.

“Chlo, what’s wrong?”

It’s the nickname that does her in. She ignores the way Beca reaches out for her and hastily swipes at her own eyes before whirling and quickly collecting her belongings.

“That’s the one,” Chloe says as she turns to leave.

(And there’s always just the small issue that Chloe loves Beca with everything in her, loves Beca like she’s never loved before. She allows it to consume her because she likes the feeling of loving somebody without abandon. She allows it to consume her because it makes her feel like she can breathe on days that Beca smiles at her, on days that Beca just sits next to her, on the days where Beca falls asleep slowly, head coming to a rest against Chloe’s shoulder. It’s just the small issue that loving Beca is all she’s ever known and she can’t stop even if it kills her more and more every day.)

Beca’s the one.

(Just not for her.)

(She never was.)


	2. (G) we'll be just fine

**summary** : Chloe is in vet school. Beca visits her. Est. relationship, mild jealousy, dumb decisions, etc.

(i don’t intend for this to be set in the universe of my current ongoing fic,  _[she is the flint who sparks the lighter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13110360/chapters/29994465), _but I am borrowing some of the information from that universe _._ i’m just drowning in school and being sick and i needed to write fluff.)

**word count** : 2700

 

* * *

 

Beca is lost.

UC Davis is larger than she expected and she finds herself whirling around a few times, trying not to look like a complete idiot, but she’s not sure she manages because at least two groups of students stare openly at her. 

“Shields library,” she mutters. She has always been a little terrible with directions and relies primarily on her phone, but it’s not being particularly helpful right now because it’s a little, well, dead.

She has always been terrible at charging her phone.

_(She can hear Chloe’s voice already: “Bec, can you please charge your phone when you notice that it’s dying?”)_

A light voice cuts through her thoughts. “Can I help you?” 

Beca’s gaze follows the Birkenstocks, the skinny jeans, and the nice knit cardigan, finally landing on the woman’s face, framed by honey-blonde hair. Beca’s first thought is that she’s, well, pretty and her second thought is that she’s tall. Not ridiculously tall, mind you, but she’s tall enough that she’s definitely looking down at Beca, past the delicate curve of her nose, an eyebrow quirked.

It’s an intimidating eyebrow.

“You look lost,” Blonde stranger continues, with a questioning tone when Beca doesn’t say anything. 

“I - uh, yes. I’m trying to find the Shields library, I think? The Peter Shields Library? I’m trying to surprise my girlfriend.”

( _And also apologize for being a dick,_  but she figures that a stranger doesn’t need to know about that.)

“Oh, I’m heading there now. Why don’t you come with? I’m Lucy by the way.”

“Beca,” she offers begrudgingly.

“Nice to meet you, Beca. This is...” Lucy trails off. “This might be weird, but you look really familiar. I mean, I assume you don’t go here since you were just standing in the middle of the quad awkwardly.”

“No, I’m just visiting,” Beca mutters, embarrassed at the reminder and apt description.

“I’m sure I’d remember you if you were a student,” Lucy says lightly as if she hadn’t spoken. Beca doesn’t have time to dwell on that. “What do you do?”

“I just work in Los Angeles,” Beca replies evasively. “Odd jobs here and there.” It’s not a lie. She attends events, she works odd hours, she surprises her girlfriend. It’s a hard life.

Lucy’s strides are a little longer than Beca’s, so she’s verging on more-than-acceptable perspiration by the time they stroll up to a modern, four-story building. There’s a strange sculpture in front of the library that makes Beca do a double-take, but Lucy says nothing and gestures needlessly at the doors of the building. “We’re here.”

“Okay. Um – thanks. Lucy, right?”

Lucy nods, smiles, waves, and disappears through the doors.

Beca sighs, wondering if she should have asked for more guidance, but she figures it’s only four floors of possibility and she can take her time.

It takes her just a bit longer than minutes because she loses her way to and from the elevators multiple times.

When she finally comes across the reading room, she spots the top of Chloe’s head from a mile away. She’s leaning over the desk, pointing at something sitting on the table between her and the people Beca assumes to be her project and study group. It makes her smile at the sight even if the sight of Chloe makes her entire body coil in guilt; Chloe has always thrived in environments where people are willing to listen to the things she has to say. 

Chloe doesn’t look up as she draws closer, but another student – standing next to Chloe and resting her arm lazily on Chloe’s shoulder – does and catches Beca’s eye.

It’s Lucy again.

She smiles and Beca raises her own eyebrows at the sight. Chloe is still immersed in whatever she’s explaining to the two students sitting in front of her and doesn’t look up.

“Hey,” Lucy asks quietly. “Beca, right?”

At that, Chloe does look up, mid-sentence.

“Beca?” Chloe’s voice carries, louder than she intends because she winces when another library occupant shushes her from a few tables down. 

Then Chloe’s power-walking towards Beca and sweeping her up into a crushing hug. Beca doesn’t even have time to put her duffel down because she’s wrapping her arms around Chloe’s shoulders, leaning up so she can prop her chin on Chloe’s shoulder; leaning up so she can press a kiss against the side of Chloe’s neck. Chloe exhales happily and all but picks Beca up – duffel bag included – and squeezes the last bit of air from Beca’s lungs.

Beca shouldn’t find it hot, but she does.

When her feet find their way back to the ground, Chloe is pulling back and smiling her ‘reserved-for-Beca’ smile (something that Chloe herself coined), just before she slants her lips over Beca’s and they’re kissing right in the middle of the library like nobody’s business.

Beca’s lips part automatically and she hooks her forearm tighter around the back of Chloe’s neck, tugging her impossibly closer. It makes her entire trek worthwhile. It makes the disapproving glare she got from her publicist all the sweeter.

“What are you doing here?” Chloe’s brow furrows. “Were you supposed to come this weekend? I thought you had...” she trails off, looking away momentarily.

“No,” Beca says, putting her hands on Chloe’s shoulders. “I was just...surprising you.” Her breath hitches slightly and she knows Chloe catches it because her eyes soften and her hands twitch against Beca’s back.

Chloe’s smile grows and becomes impossibly bright. “Were you being...” she leans in to whisper against Beca’s ear. “Romantic?” She laughs at the blush that rises on Beca’s cheeks. “It’s a great surprise,” she says earnestly. She lifts Beca’s hands from her shoulders and tangles their fingers together. “Hey,” she says quietly to her group members who are watching with various expressions of amusement on their faces. “This is Beca.” Chloe’s entire face softens when she gazes at Beca. “My girlfriend.” 

“We were starting to think Chloe made you up,” Lucy says lightly.

Chloe smiles apologetically at Beca, leading her to sit by her side while she works. She points at the two young men sitting across from her. “Evan and Minhal,” she introduces. Beca vaguely remembers hearing those names, but it strikes her that she can’t remember exactly when Chloe might have mentioned them, though the gnawing twisting in her stomach tells her she probably should remember because Chloe is clearly comfortable enough with them to consider them friends. Groupmates. Partners.

 

* * *

 

 

_Their fight is awful. It reverberates through Beca like a shockwave after Chloe hangs up._

_“You know, you can just tell your publicist that you have a girlfriend,” Chloe deadpans._

_“She knows!”  
_

_“Then why the fuck are you going on a date with another singer and cancelling on our Skype date?” The cuss sounds unnatural coming from Chloe’s mouth and Beca hates that she was the cause of it._

_Still, she can’t resist a retort of her own. “I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”  
_

_Chloe sucks in a breath. “Only because I had to call you to ask you about this gossip rag I saw on my grocery run.”_

_“This is my job, Chloe.”_

_“And I am your girlfriend,” Chloe says. “This is the fifth time you’ve cancelled,” she continues, voice softening. “I just...I need you, okay? School is insane. I’m...” her voice thickens and there’s an inhale that makes Beca’s own lungs feel like they’re about to collapse. “I’m just...have a good time, Beca.”  
_

_“Wait-”_

 

* * *

 

 

When Beca slips out of the memory, Chloe is back to explaining a research methodology, a giant pink marker in her hand as she writes across a rough draft of what looks like a poster board. 

Beca focuses on the enthusiasm with which Chloe gestures and whispers. It screeches to a halt when she sees Lucy pull the marker out of Chloe’s hand, but not before there’s unnecessary finger brushing happening. Chloe just settles down with her textbook as if nothing happened.

Beca scowls at the back of Lucy’s head.

She’s still sulking and flipping aimlessly through the novel she brought along about twenty minutes later when Chloe declares that she thinks that’s enough for now and they can put together the poster within the next week.

Evan salutes Chloe before leaving and Minhal waves goodbye, smiling at Beca as well.

Lucy hugs Chloe.

It lingers. It passes. Beca catches a flash in Lucy’s eyes and tries to stand taller.

“What was that?” Beca asks grumpily.

“What was what?”

“Dude, seriously? Lucy! She was all over you.”

Chloe’s gaze cuts across to her as she hoists her bag on her shoulder. “She was not all over me.” Her expression becomes incredulous. “She is my friend, Beca.” A frustrated expression crosses Chloe’s face. “I’m...I’m really glad that you’re here. Please, can we not fight about anything? Let’s just go back to my place.”

Beca looks away, embarrassed, and nods. “I’m sorry,” she says, evening her tone out. “I’m sorry. I - I just want...” she sighs when Chloe simply plants a kiss on her cheek. 

Their hands fit together as beautifully as ever.

 

* * *

 

 

After a quick dinner, Chloe suggests they walk back to her apartment. The neighbourhood is quiet, sparsely populated with students and cars from time to time. It’s peaceful.

Chloe’s apartment itself is quiet and small. Beca meets Chloe’s two roommates, only barely remembering their names in the nick of time. She forces a smile when one roommate comments that Beca hasn’t been by in a while. She doesn’t need the reminder.

Chloe’s room is blissfully at the end of the hall, so there’s an increased solitude when she enters the dark room.

Beca settles on Chloe’s wonderfully comfortable double bed, letting her arms spread on the cool sheets. Chloe giggles and leans over, pressing a gentle kiss to Beca’s lips. 

“I just have to finish some work, if that’s okay,” she murmurs, letting her words stick against Beca’s mouth.

Beca blinks, dazed. “Well, don’t let me stop you.”

When Chloe settles at her desk, Beca shifts on the bed and takes a look at the images lining Chloe’s wall - a mix of polaroids, printed photos, and a few doodle and sketches. She smiles at the photo that’s pretty much eye-level from her vantage point lying down. It’s a photo of her and Chloe at Santa Monica Pier amidst the sunset and beautiful blue waves, giant ferris wheel in the background. Chloe is picking a piece of cotton candy out of Beca’s hair, laughing as she does so while Beca grins at the camera.

Beca sighs, thinking she should probably work out how to make something like that happen again - just a day out, no press, no manager or publicist. Her eyes slide across the wall and she catches a flash of blonde. Her first instinct is that it’s Aubrey, but it’s not. It’s a photo of Lucy and Chloe, both clearly inebriated but smiling huge, winning grins at the camera. Lucy on Chloe’s back and they look like they’re about to fall over, but it’s the sheer joy on Chloe’s face that strikes Beca.

Beca petulantly wants to count how many photos she’s in comparatively, but when she shifts her gaze across the room to Chloe who is sitting at her desk, she lets the fight leave her. She shifts quietly off the bed and moves to stand behind Chloe’s chair, gently slipping her arms around Chloe’s shoulders.

And she feels it then - feels it in the way Chloe’s hands move to her arms automatically and hold her there for a moment.

She presses a kiss to the top of Chloe’s head and feels Chloe’s hands squeeze her forearm in response.

“I’m gonna do some work,” she says, reluctantly pulling away. 

“Wait,” Chloe says, turning and pulling her back. She kisses her again, soundly. Solidly. Beca sinks into it, tightening her fingers into the fabric of Chloe’s cardigan. “One for the road,” Chloe says lightly, eyes bright with emotion.

Beca smiles good-naturedly and lets Chloe swat her on the bottom when she turns to hop back on the bed with her laptop.

 

* * *

 

 

When Beca comes to, she’s half lying on her laptop’s keyboard and there’s a loop playing repeatedly in one of her ears while her other earphone has slipped out. She hears Chloe talking quietly to somebody at her bedroom door, though she’s unable to discern who it is.

“- I have a lot of work to do,” Chloe is saying quietly. “Yeah, I’m just gonna stay in and finish up some stuff. Plus, my girlfriend’s here. I’m not going to wake her up.”

Beca thinks she should shift or do something to let Chloe know she’s awake, but her head feels heavy. She doesn’t want to stop Chloe from going out.

There’s a murmured response.

“Okay, bye.”

The door clicks quietly and Beca hears the sound of muffled voices outside in the hall before the front door opens and closes again.

Instead of heading back to her desk like Beca expects, she is suddenly aware of Chloe’s hands gently manoeuvring her laptop from under her. There are a few taps and clicks on her mousepad and Beca hears a ding from her earphone indicating Chloe’s saved her work. Then, the earphone leaves and she’s being rolled over gently.

“Mmph,” she mumbles articulately in protest.

Chloe exhales and presses a kiss against her cheek before she’s tugging off her socks and jeans. She tugs the sweater from Beca’s shoulders and before Beca can shiver from the cool draft, there’s a warm blanket being draped over her.

“...Chlo,” she mumbles, though she doesn’t expand because she’s not even sure why she said anything.

She’s still facing the wall, so she lets her eyes blearily open to take in the Pier photo. As she slowly fades in and out of the memory, she feels Chloe’s weight shift in behind her, sliding under the blanket. 

She can almost feel the way Chloe’s arms had felt around her on the Pier that warm afternoon. The kiss she feels against her shoulder is akin to the warmth she felt when the sunshine had beat down on them and Chloe had smiled at her like she was the only person in the world.

She falls asleep in warmth and peace.

 

* * *

 

 

When Beca wakes again, it’s morning. Chloe evidently forgot to close her blinds and the sunlight streams through, in imposing waves.

Beca rolls over to look at Chloe - Chloe whose arms are no longer around her.

Chloe is lying on her back, awake and bright-eyed to the point that Beca envies her. Her hair is vibrant against the beige of her pillow, splayed in various directions and messy without abandon. She’s looking up at the ceiling, but not really because her eyes seem to be lost – fixated somewhere beyond.

Chloe’s hands are moving through the flecks that float through the air, only visible because streams of light are slipping through the cracks of the blinds. Only visible because Chloe’s displacing them ever so gently, gracefully moving her hand through the air like a conductor, similar to the grace she exhibits when conducting her group members or when speaking passionately about anything, really. 

Beca’s breath catches.

It’s nothing. It’s just a moment – a minute if anything – in their day. Their day hasn’t really begun. But Beca watches the flutter of Chloe’s eyelashes against her cheek as she blinks lazily, swirling her hand once more before letting it fall back against her stomach.

The ordinariness of the moment settles somewhere amongst the dust. It engulfs Beca, settles on her chest.

The two of them, lying together, in the morning’s stolen moment. There are so many things that they could do over the rest of the day in Davis, California. It screams possibility that shakes Beca to the core. She settles for just reaching out to rest her hand on Chloe’s, slipping her fingers between the spaces.

She can’t imagine being more in love than this moment – this stolen moment where possibilities run abound. She can’t imagine being more in love than in this moment, watching reverently as Chloe exists in the morning light.

She’s going to visit more often.


	3. (G) reassurance

Beca needs something to ground her - reassurance - so she calls Aubrey, obviously. Beca-centric.

(kind of a deleted scene from  _[she is the flint](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F13110360%2Fchapters%2F29994465&t=YjI1MjQzYzFhYjIwZjU1ZGJlMGNlZTUzMjhmYmM2ZjM1MzIyNGEyMSxlY2RYVzQ1Qg%3D%3D&b=t%3AV76TkGoxvBG5DSsq3GfZGg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fisthemusictoblame.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F171097176384%2Freassurance-11&m=1) _but I have some down time to kill rn on vacation, so I’m just gonna push out fics, ficlets, and one-shots ok)

**pairing** : beca/chloe  
 **word count** : 816

 

* * *

 

 

Beca stares at the ceiling, unable to sleep after her phone call with Chloe. She grimaces at herself and thrashes uselessly. “Fuck,” she mutters. Breathing heavily, she decides that it’s time to end this once and for all.

She calls Aubrey.

Aubrey picks up on the first ring, swearing. “Listen, you crazy bitch, stop calling me! I don’t want to take you up on your water-heater-cleaning service!”

Beca sympathizes; she hates telemarketers too. But it’s not what she’s risked her livelihood for. “Posen, I need to ask you something.”

There’s a rustle of sheets and a quiet groan. “Beca?” A short pause. “What the fuck? Beca?”

“It’s important,” Beca says as patiently as she possibly can (so, not at all).

There’s a string of curses, followed by “it’s 3 a.m. here. It better be aca-fucking important, you monster.”

Beca has never heard Aubrey swear like that before and would find more entertainment in it, but she’s a woman on a mission. “Look,” she implores, changing tactics. “I never call you. And I promise to never call you again,” she says honestly. “Just - it’s important, okay?”

Aubrey heaves a sigh that exhausts Beca when she hears it. “Fine, Beca. What is it?”

“Is Chloe in love with Chicago?” Aubrey is so silent that Beca thinks she’s fallen asleep again. She tries again in case the call was dropped. “Is Chloe in love with - ”

What follows is a click, then a dial tone. Beca scowls at her phone before tossing it on her bedside table.

She sleeps restlessly.

 

* * *

 

It is momentarily alleviated from her mind - ‘it’ being everything that has been plaguing her about Chloe and Chicago and the distance that exists between them. She settles for casual messages and the occasional emoji.

Beca thinks she’s about to keel over after her weekend hike with a few of her new friends. She decides that she’s going to just lie on her couch for the rest of the day and watch some Netflix, or rather, pass out while browsing the library.

She bites her lip, pulls out her phone and fires off a quick text to Chloe.

**Beca (3:02pm)**   
_I’m Netflix-and-chilling all day. I love my life._

Her last message from Chloe was one where she was complaining enthusiastically (there were exclamation marks) about some pesky group work assignment she’s been saddled with, so she figures that this might cheer Chloe up or at least lessen her dark mood.

(She doesn’t tell Chloe that she got a cramp in the middle of her hike.)

**Chloe (3:05pm)**   
_I hate you! </3 </3 </3_

**Chloe (3:05pm)**   
_without me?_

**Chloe (3:05pm)**   
_;)_

There it is.

The warmth that fills her even from this minor, circumstantial interaction has to be unhealthy in some way, she tells herself. There’s no way that smiling so much can be good for one person. Beca will admit that Chloe has always been the one to force her defenses down, often just shattering them and allowing the rubble fly into the wind. She only hopes that she can be good enough for Chloe to feel similarly or at least a feel a margin of the comfort that Beca feels whenever she’s around Chloe.

She deliberates which emoji to send back that isn’t too awkward for somebody like her to use. She settles for the upside-down smiling emoji. She’s about to just dump her phone in her room to charge when it blasts Ludacris’ “Move Bitch”.

Beca groans. It’s Aubrey, who, well, never calls Beca. Not even to yell at her. She usually gets somebody else to yell at her.

She steels herself. “Aubrey, hello.”

“Beca, I have something to say to you,” Aubrey says primly.

“Should I be sitting down for this?”

“Listen, you dumbass. Chloe is not in love with Chicago. You’re both idiots. Please don’t screw this up. I know you’re scared, or whatever, but my father always said that everything worth fighting for is something that’ll terrify you in some way or another.” That’s surprising to Beca. One of General Posen’s less frightening catchphrases. “I know you know that Chloe does not have any romantic inclinations towards Chicago, alright? Jesus Christ, I hate both of you so much sometimes.”

“Aubrey, I -”

“Look, obviously I’m only telling you this because I love you or whatever,” It sounds like it physically pains Aubrey to admit that aloud and perhaps, Beca thinks, she never has. It has the odd effect of both pleasing and terrifying Beca. “But, also,” Aubrey continues in a more serious tone. “I love Chloe more. So. Don’t screw this up, Beca Mitchell or I will hunt you down. That’s all,” Aubrey finishes with a pleasant lilt, then hangs up.

Beca listens to the click and heaves a breath.

Well.

That answered everything.

She decides that she can change Aubrey’s contact name from “Dictator” to “Aubrey” for the time being.


	4. (G) Chloe’s Instagram Post, May 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr post.](https://isthemusictoblame.tumblr.com/post/171218394929/chloes-instagram-post-may-2019-word-count-805)

****

 

**Word Count:**  805

 

* * *

 

 

Beca should be rehearsing for her first tour. It’s exciting in its own right and she really should be focusing, but she can’t help but feel jittery over the idea that something will go wrong; that something will force her to realize that her dreams are only meant to be just that. **  
**

It’s not a particularly gruelling rehearsal overall. It’s her first tour and she’s doing small venues along the east coast and a few venues back on the west. She can’t help but feel small swells of pride that come and go, however, because she is ridiculously proud of the success of her first album. Beca could do with less moving about (she’d prefer to not move at all), but she’s excited to work with the small band she’s touring with.

 

* * *

 

 

“How about a break, Mitchell?” Brandon - the tour manager - suggests. “You can continue slacking off on break too,” he teases.

She shrugs, sticking her tongue out at him and leaves her post at the front of the makeshift stage to head towards the refreshments table.

She’s casually accepting their friend requests on Facebook when hands slide over her eyes. She’s about to grumble and forcibly remove the hands, but ends up fumbling and nearly dropping her phone when a pair of soft lips nip at her ear lightly. “Holy - dude!” She whirls excitedly. “Chloe!” She catches a brief glimpse of Chloe’s smile before she’s cuddling into her arms. “What are you doing here? How are you here?”

Chloe smiles - the type of smile that makes Beca fall harder every day - as she responds. “I took a couple days off so I could spend an extended weekend with you.” She leans in. “You and me - all weekend long,” she whispers, winking exaggeratedly.

Beca’s blush rises high on her cheeks and she glances around to see if anybody had been within listening distance. When she sees that they’re fairly alone, she cups a hand around the back of Chloe’s neck and tugs her down for a thorough kiss.

Beca looks smug when she pulls back. “Hello,” Chloe says, barely managing to compose herself.

Beca is practically buzzing with energy, which makes her bright and bubbly and everything that Chloe misses when she’s stuck up in Davis. “Let me introduce you.”

And as always, Chloe is in awe of how Beca has grown into the woman she is today; she is in awe of how Beca commands attention, how Beca manages to remain humble but confident and sure of her own capabilities.

Chloe lets Beca point out various aspects of her rehearsal, content to let Beca’s voice and presence wash over her like a warm, safe blanket.

“Oh,” Beca says, stopping suddenly. She picks up a broom lying in the middle of the floor. “My new job, I guess,” she says, pretending to sweep.

“Fitting,” Chloe teases. She takes a few photos of Beca, deciding which one she can use for Instagram.

“Could throw in some old Bellas acrobatics,” Beca says, pretending to think about it.

“As if you can remember any of that terrible choreography.”

“I don’t know, I have a very compelling choreographer.”

Chloe laughs, continuing to take photos of Beca as she goofs off. It fills her with love and makes her chest ache ever so slightly because she knows it’s entirely for her benefit.

Beca shrugs as she drops the prop with a clang, uncaring. She turns to Chloe, smiling wider - that unreserved smile that Chloe fought to get out of her for so many years during school and now -

Chloe can’t resist. “Come here,” she mumbles, tugging Beca’s hand. She slants her mouth over Beca’s gently coaxing a tender kiss out of her. Beca sinks into her, hands sliding confidently up to her shoulders and back. For a moment, Chloe forgets that Beca’s travelling to the east coast for a few weeks; forgets that they have to be apart yet again. For the moment, Beca allows herself to just breathe and remind herself that Chloe is there; that Chloe will be there when she comes back.

“I’m going to miss you,” Beca mumbles against her mouth. She sort of sighs or whines and leans back, tilting to look at Chloe. “You should just come with me,” she says half-heartedly.

“Sounds good,” Chloe replies. She kisses Beca again. “We should just run away together.”

Beca’s gaze softens. She wishes desperately. As Chloe holds her, she basks in the warmth and strength she consistently draws from Chloe’s mere presence, she lets herself also take stock of the bustle around her and the way people are helping make her own dreams come true.

And amidst those dreams, she still sees Chloe - Chloe who has always been there. She hopes nothing ever changes in that aspect.


	5. (T) came all this way to say

**Summary:** Their first kiss is everything. 

_(Beca-centric. My take (one of many of my head canons) on the kiss that should have happened. Thanks, Universal!)_

**word count:**  1834

 

* * *

 

The rush of performing never quite seems to grow old. Beca lets it rush through her, lets the residual excitement blanket her like a security blanket.

 “Chicago asked me out,” Chloe is saying to Aubrey. 

“I’m happy for you,” Aubrey says excitedly. “Are you going to say yes?”

It seems to echo around the hotel room and falls on Beca’s ears with heaviness that makes her choke on her coffee. Flo and Emily give her concerned looks, so she waves them off nonchalantly. 

Her eyes sweep for Chloe after that statement and Aubrey is smiling happily at Chloe, so Beca figures she knows where that conversation went. She follows Chloe’s figure as it moves to sit out on the balcony attached to the hotel room.

“One sec,” she says to Theo who is tirelessly chatting away.

She lets Fat Amy swipe her fourth, barely touched wine cooler, and makes her way out to the balcony.

It’s warm and humid, making Beca cringe momentarily as the fabric of her jeans rubs uncomfortably against her skin.

“Hey,” she greets, not wanting to startle Chloe.

“Bec,” Chloe says, cheeks flushed lightly under the glow of the outdoor light. “Hey. Some night, huh?”

Beca thinks about walking off stage and seeing Chicago with Chloe. The warring emotions – from the sight and from her first solo live performance – make her sick.

“Some night,” she agrees. She leans against the wall by Chloe, looking down at the top of her head. “How are you? Why are you out here, dude?”

“Just getting some fresh air.” 

“Oh, same.” 

They fall into silence, not uncommon for them, but Beca feels that they’ve grown heavier and more painful over the past little while. She tries not think about why, but she knows that she can conjure up a million reasons, each more painful than the last.

There’s something oppressive about the silence that overcomes them. It’s nothing like the silence that Beca knows from her experience. Years of sitting in silence with Chloe, where Chloe let her do homework; days in the sun on the Barden lawn reading while Chloe braided her hair; falling asleep on the couch in Chloe’s dorm and hazily feeling fingers running through her hair comfortingly.

Reality and present-time crash back on Beca’s head as laughter echoes from the hotel window behind her. She tilts her head, looking through the window they’re leaning beside. She can see their friends – their family – laughing, drinking, singing. And then there’s Chicago and Zeke amidst them. New friends they’ve made along the way.

 _‘Along the way’_  means that Beca can reflect on how far she and Chloe have come from that first encounter at the activities fair. The confusion Beca felt when that girl with the bright blue eyes looked at her like she was the only person who would be able to make her world whole again. 

(Beca knows because Chloe has been  _that_  for her for so long that it’s second nature to see it now, in her mind’s eye.)

“So you’re going to give it a shot, huh? You and Chicago?”

Chloe’s smile is wide. Genuine. Open and honest for the first time in months. It shatters Beca. “I guess I am.”

“But you haven’t said yes yet?” Beca asks, to clarify.

Chloe shrugs. “I wanted to be sure and I…” she sighs. “I’m ready.”

“You’ve known him for like two weeks,” Beca points out. Chloe’s laugh is self-deprecating. It makes Beca’s stomach drop. “What?” she asks tentatively.

“I mean…I guess it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve fallen for somebody within the first couple of weeks of knowing them. Meeting them,” Chloe says, her eyes focusing on her hands folded in her lap.

Beca swipes her tongue over her bottom lip. “Oh,” she breathes.

(She’s not an idiot. She knows.)

“I…for what it’s worth, I…knew, I guess.” It isn’t worth anything.

Chloe doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even seem to breathe. Beca does her best not to look at her because she doesn’t want to see devastation, hurt, or confusion.

“Why are you telling me this now?” Chloe asks, tucking her hair behind her ears.

Beca laughs awkwardly, rocking back on her heels before she settles down next to Chloe on the balcony. She watches the ocean ebb and flow beneath the glow of the moon.

“I don’t know,” she says. 

“I don’t know,” Chloe echoes, tilting her head back to rest against the stone. “I thought I knew everything about five minutes ago, Beca Mitchell,” she mutters.

Beca nods to herself. “It felt like the last chance I’d get, I guess.” It’s the confidence of the three wine coolers coursing through her.

There are times where Beca likes not knowing things. She likes the uncertainty because making hard decisions means – often – letting something go. If there’s anything Beca knows with certainty, it’s that sacrifice is inevitable.

(She thinks of Los Angeles and opportunity.)

“Kiss me,” Beca whispers, unsure why she’s even pushing for this – not when she knows Chloe is not hers, will never be hers from now on. Not when she knows Chicago could see, though a part of her  _hopes_  that he will.

(She tries not to think about Chloe being hers, maybe, in the past, that it was in the realm of possibility to begin with; she tries not to think about being so stupid and dense.)

And Chloe looks uncertain, only for a moment, because she nods and leans in – full view of their friends behind the hotel window pane. 

For the first time during their trip, Beca lets herself take stock of the warm air around them. The unfamiliar sounds and the twinkling lights. They could be strangers in a new country, trying something new for the experience and nothing more.

Beca closes her eyes because she doesn’t want to look at Chloe’s eyes, the endless blues that refuse to let her go. Before she can say anything further, soft, warm lips are pushing against hers insistently. She cups the back of Chloe’s neck, sinking her fingers into soft hair, unable to even begin to compartmentalize the emotions that flood through her at the sensation.

Beca thinks of the first time she set foot on the Barden campus. She thinks of how-

Before she can open her eyes again, Chloe’s hands are cupping her cheeks, holding them together for a moment longer.

There’s a delicateness to kissing Chloe – something Beca has never had the privilege or joy of experiencing before. She’s not entirely sure if she will ever get to experience it again. Chloe, while not necessarily delicate, is soft. She is summer and sunshine. She is wedged heels on a camping retreat. She is summer dresses and happiness.

Beca feels herself gasp into the kiss, more than she hears it. It’s the culmination of many unanswered dreams and the echo of the almost-moments and could-have-beens. She thinks there is desperation in Chloe too. Beca’s not blind. She has seen and cowered from the way Chloe looks – had looked – at her.

Without thought, Beca grips the sides of Chloe’s dress and holds on, a lifeboat in the raging sea. She had held on when she finished performing, surrounded by the warmth of her Bellas family. She can’t imagine letting go, not ever. She can’t let go because she doesn’t want to be swept away, at least not for the moment. She wants to breathe just a little while longer 

(And there’s a part of her that wants to drown in Chloe, to let Chloe support her like she always has and has always offered to. There’s a part of her that wants to  _die_  in Chloe because she feels like she might die otherwise anyway.)

A quick tongue swipes over her lip once, twice, and Beca whimpers, toes curling at the eagerness of Chloe’s own response.

In the inevitability of her own dreams, Beca’s still unsure as to why she held herself back for so long.

If holding Chloe like this – kissing her like it’s their last – feels so right, Beca’s not sure why she didn’t do it earlier. When they had all the time in the world. It makes her finally feel like her heart can beat in peace, not like it’s constantly searching for its last missing piece.

But Chloe is more than that, more than a puzzle piece. She is grace and elegance, disguised as simplicity. She is passion and excitement – never backing down from a challenge.

Beca winds her hands further into the hair at Chloe’s neck, pushing their lips impossibly closer. There’s a curiosity and need nagging at Beca – she desires to discover more about Chloe through this one kiss with an unparalleled hunger that she never felt for Jesse. An uncharacteristic shiver travels deep inside her - through her - as she thinks about how much further she could push her own fantasies and she moves to pull back, but not before a last nip at Chloe’s lip. Perhaps too boldly on her part, Beca catches Chloe’s lower lip and gives it a quick pull before forcing herself back.

They stare openly at each other for the first time, neither bothering to hide the affection in their eyes as Chloe’s thumb rubs along the length of Beca’s neck.

Chloe is love.

(Beca is in love with Chloe.)

“That was…” Beca trails off, at a loss for words. She swipes her tongue over her lower lip and is met with the taste of Chloe’s chosen lip gloss. There is apology in Chloe’s eyes, even as her eyes track the motion hungrily. The nonverbal apology hanging over their heads makes Beca’s hands clench in her lap.

Chloe nods once, her lips twitching into an almost-smile as if she knows Beca’s thoughts. She probably does, the knack with which Chloe susses out Beca’s moods and feelings was unnerving but had grown into a comforting assessment of Beca’s own feelings. “That was—I’ve never felt anything quite like that before,” she admits in true Chloe fashion – honesty in the face of definite heartbreak. She says that with a broken tone and she looks at Beca uncertainly. “Why did you do that?” Chloe whispers. Her eyelashes flutter and her eyes glisten in the slowly fading light.

Beca thinks that time moves quicker when you’re seeing your entire life flash before your eyes. She sees Chicago making his way towards the door leading out to the balcony, adjusting his jacket primly. Whether he’s seen or not, Beca feels the timer verging on midnight.

When she looks at Chloe, she sees the opportunity she missed and the life she was too afraid to pursue. Chloe’s eyes scream at her in her confusion and hurt, but Beca knows that the distance between them was always meant to grow.

“I did that because I thought he should know how it feels to lose you,” Beca says. She lets her words linger in the air, carried off by the sound of crashing ocean waves.


	6. (T) dive bar on the east side, where you at?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yes, it's from tswift's delicate

**summary** : standing on the precipice of something more, amidst beer bottles and the bar. another first kiss au because we were robbed.

[[inspo x](https://twitter.com/umkendrickk/status/968943269257338881) - no this is not bechloe kissing but we so wish it was, don’t we?]

 **word count** : 1055

 

* * *

 

It's a night out alone - just the two of them. For the first time since moving to New York, Beca feels out of her element as Chloe enters her field of vision, carrying two bottles of beer.

"Beer," Beca states, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you were a margarita girl.”

Chloe's grin is cheeky. "I’m a drinks girl. Doesn’t really matter what." She clinks her bottle against Beca’s. "To us and this wonderful city," she says, eyes bright in the poor lighting.

Beca smiles behind the neck of her bottle. "To us," she murmurs, letting her words sink into the bottle.

Chloe's smile is vibrant. 

 

* * *

 

It’s about two beers and two tequila shots later that Beca feels it hit her somewhere in the middle of her chest.

Not nausea, no.

It’s just - Chloe is beautiful. 

Beca rubs her hands over her face, nervously shaking her leg as Chloe dances her way back over to Beca, eyes surprisingly dark.

“Why are you just sitting there?” she asks, leaning against the bar so she’s watching Beca’s profile.

“Just thinking,” Beca mutters.

“We can get out of here if you want,” Chloe says, eyes scanning the bar. “Oh,” she says, lips forming a pout. Beca averts her eyes.

“What?”

“It’s-it’s just that guy. He was annoying me on the way back from the washroom,” Chloe mutters.

Beca scowls, suddenly alert. “Where? Who?” She spots him fairly quickly. He’s tall, dark, and handsome - somebody who she expects Chloe to be all over. “Him?”

It’s not that it bothers her that Chloe has suitors wherever she goes. She just, more recently, has recognized the looks on their faces. The awe and wonder at the mere sight of Chloe Beale, just because she radiates happiness and sunshine wherever she goes. She’s a fresh start and the opportunity to maybe experience a kind of happiness people dream of having in their lives. Beca recognizes the softness and the desire in people’s eyes - recognizes the kinds of feelings people have.

It’s a product of knowing Chloe for years, of being around her for so long; it’s also a product of finally acknowledging the depth of those feelings in her own self and how much it terrifies her.

“Beca,” Chloe says softly.

“I know,” Beca replies. It was common practice when going out with the Bellas to cover for each other, to have each other’s backs when somebody wasn’t feeling up for it or when a suitor got too aggressive.

Chloe’s smile is suddenly a lot closer to her face. 

“Why are you smiling?” Beca says, or rather whispers, because Chloe is nudging her legs apart so she can stand between them. Beca nearly falls off the stool as Chloe leans her arm on the bar behind them. “What are you doing?”

“Tell me to stop anytime,” Chloe mumbles.

Beca thinks not.

She glances over Chloe’s shoulder discretely and sees him - he’s making his way over.

Her traitorous hands reach up to cup Chloe’s neck and she’s tugging her in, pulling her into her world, her entire universe.

Chloe’s lips are soft and pliant. Beca sinks into the kiss willingly, though she can’t believe that she’s finally kissing Chloe like she’s always wanted.

Chloe grips the wooden edge a bit tighter, tilting her head so she can access Beca’s mouth a bit more. She slides her hand confidently from Beca’s knee up her thigh and relishes the whimper that escapes from Beca’s mouth. She grins against Beca’s lips, pushing herself into Beca’s space a bit more.  She lets her lips slide from Beca’s mouth to her jaw, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses along the skin.

Beca slides her hands up to Chloe’s hair, tugging when she feels a nip just under her jaw. There’s an intimacy in the kiss that Beca craves - an intimacy she longs for because she can’t recall any other first kiss feeling quite like this. She tangles her fingers into Chloe’s hair, tugging her back up and resting her forehead against Chloe’s, allowing them both to catch their breath.

It’s Beca who leans in again, pressing a light kiss against Chloe’s lips, eyes falling closed again. Chloe’s fingers dig into the skin of Beca’s thigh and she trembles, sighs-

It’s over.

Chloe leans back, eyes fluttering open to lock on to Beca’s. She’s breathing heavily, eyes hooded, lipstick smudged, lips swollen. Beca’s sure she must look the same, minus the fact that Chloe’s still the most beautiful person she’s ever laid eyes on. 

“He’s gone now,” Chloe breathes. There’s a spark in her eyes. “You can let go, you know?” She doesn’t make any move to step out of Beca’s orbit. Instead, she leans in, runs the tip of her nose along Beca’s jaw. She revels in the closeness, something she always felt too scared to initiate in fear of rejection.

Beca’s hands flex, tangling further into her hair. Chloe feels the faint scrape of fingers against the back of her neck. She bites her lip before allowing a whimper to slip out, unsure if it will push Beca away or- 

“I know,” Beca murmurs, using a hand to tilt Chloe’s head back up. She nips at Chloe’s lower lip. “I don’t want to, maybe.”

“Maybe,” Chloe echoes. She slides the hand that was on Beca’s thigh to her waist and lets her other hand tug at the fabric of Beca’s shoulder.

Their second kiss is better than the first, all painfully clashing teeth, exploring tongues, and strained groans. The noise of the bar falls away easily, just like Chloe’s inhibitions always seem to weaken around Beca. It’s just a fact of life and she can’t wait for what living with Beca in New York City will bring. 

There’s also the small issue that Chloe herself, for all her bravado and confidence, is sometimes subdued and quiet around Beca. Contemplative. Hesitant.

Beca has noticed it over the years, doesn’t know how to coax it out of her.

What she can do, however, is coax another whimper out of Chloe as she runs her tongue along the back of Chloe’s teeth; coax another whimper out of Chloe as she presses the pads of her fingers into the nape of Chloe’s neck, holding her in place.

Their beers are cold, forgotten.

 

* * *

 

They don’t talk about it again.


	7. (T) i loved you in secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bechloe angst filled prompt :))) like they get into a fight. Make it tearful.

 

 

**summary:** “the home where my heart lives” or something like that. all couples fight. post pp3.

**word count:** 1537

 

* * *

 

 

“So that’s it?” Chloe demands, throwing her purse on to the ottoman by the front door. “You’re just going to let them walk all over you?”

Beca feels the beginning of a headache start – more frequent ever since her newest publicist came on board. “Chlo, can we talk about this tomorrow?”

“Beca, you’ve been so unhappy since  _she_  started working with your team.” The venom in Chloe’s voice is not lost on her.

Beca shrugs out of her jacket. “I’m not unhappy.”

It’s not a lie, but it’s not entirely the truth too. Beca’s career is consistently on an upward climb and the recognition of that fact prompts more execs to eye her with more scrutiny. The first aspect of her life to fall victim to the image change was her wardrobe where she barely managed to hang on to her leather jackets.

The second was her relationship with Chloe.

It was small at first. Keeping her relationship out of interviews as much as possible. Keeping the public appearances to a minimum.

_“It’s just my publicist,” Beca says, pulling out her phone in the middle of dinner with Chloe’s parents. They’re visiting Los Angeles for a week over summer break while Chloe’s working on her third-year internship. Beca offered to treat them._

_“Is something wrong?” Chloe asks, concerned._

_“I saw that you and Chloe went to the LACMA a few days ago from some photos online,” Chloe’s mother, Susan, says with a smile. “Henry and I were thinking of going there ourselves. Recommended?”_

_Beca’s smile is forced even as Chloe nods happily. She catches Beca’s expression. “What’s wrong, Bec?”_

_“I…yeah. I saw those photos too. Grace sent me an email.” Beca feels Chloe grow still next to her. “We can talk later,” she murmurs, waving it off._

_Beca tries to ignore the confused glance shared between Chloe’s parents, but she can’t ignore the hurt that crosses Chloe’s face – a look that has grown more frequent since she moved in with Beca for the summer, though Beca can probably trace it back further._

The memory rushes to the forefront of Beca’s mind because the fight had been excessive and left Beca reeling for days afterwards. She couldn’t find it in herself to properly justify her publicist’s insane tactics then and she can’t do it now. She is so tired of hurting Chloe and the people in her life; she is tired of disappointing people she loves and cares about. 

“I can’t do this,” Beca says before she can think about it anymore than she already has.

“Can’t do what?” At Beca’s silence, Chloe turns to stare at her incredulously. “You – you can’t be serious.”

Beca focuses on kicking off her heels, rubbing uncomfortably at her ankles.

“Beca? Are you serious right now?”

“I can’t live my life like this, Chloe. Constantly wondering, being afraid of when, not if,  _when_  you’re going to leave me because you think I’m being selfish or that you’re…jealous.” It slips from Beca’s mouth before she can help herself, even though she knows and believes that is the furthest thing from the truth.

It isn’t a new fight, not even close. The words flow from Beca almost robotically and she only has time to dwell on their harsh weight only when she’s watching Chloe angrily swipe at her own tears.

“It’s not about me being  _jealous_ , Beca,” Chloe all but spits out. She tosses the rest of her water down the sink, no longer feeling thirsty.

(She could go for a stronger drink.)

It really isn’t. It’s not about jealousy, not even over all the models Beca gets to meet, all the fake dates Beca goes on. It’s a fear – a deep-rooted fear – that settled somewhere deep within Chloe’s chest somewhere around her second senior year, around the time she watched Beca toss back a drink with Jesse with dark eyes and a thudding pain somewhere near her heart.

Chloe can’t help it – she can’t help that she scares easily, can’t help that she needs some semblance of control in her life. The fear lurks somewhere deep inside her, brought on by years and years of people disappointing her and everything seemingly going south just when she thinks things could be perfect.

“We need to take a break,” Beca says softly. She says so gently, even though her words are anything but.

Chloe shakes her head, trying to alleviate the weight of the reality crashing down on her.

“I don’t want to,” Beca continues. “But we should. For both of us.”

“I love you,” Chloe says softly. It’s with certainty. Like she’s always known this to be true.  “I – does that mean anything to you, Bec?”

“There’s  _nothing_  –” Beca nearly chokes on air at that, balking at the thought. “There’s nothing that could ever replace how much I value your love.“

“Then why are we doing this again?” Chloe looks like she’s on the verge of tears. “We’ve been fighting so much lately, I’m just…I’m so tired.”

Beca’s eyes soften and she cups Chloe’s cheek, tilting her head up and looking at her with desperation. “That’s why we need a break. I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

Chloe’s heart shatters. It’s not a clean break. It’s more like her heart explodes into a million pieces and she’ll probably never be able to find them all again. She hates that she can’t let go and just leap headfirst into her faith in Beca like she used to.

Chloe didn’t know anymore - at least for the moment - whether she had faith or believed in the concept. Once upon a time, she had faith in Beca and potentially still did, but she feels too weak to even assess her inner thoughts and demons. Perhaps her lack of faith consistently stemmed from the growing inadequacy - the growing painful reminder that she couldn’t love Beca the way she deserved to be loved. 

Beca has always recognized Chloe’s own insecurities as well as Chloe recognizes Beca’s. It’s so easy to forgive each other because of how well they know - knew - each other. Gazing at Chloe’s expression now, Beca knows there’s nothing to forgive, but there’s a reality to address in how they’ve lived on borrowed time and false hopes. Beca is only so aware that these things catch up with people and she always wondered when her own demons would catch up to her. It was one hurtful action after another, one thoughtless comment after another, until the wounds on both sides were too raw and too fresh to ignore. 

“I love you,” Chloe murmurs, eyes lifting in hope that she can get Beca’s attention again.

Beca doesn’t respond.

Chloe knows that Beca’s hearing is fine.

She takes Beca’s hand in her own, feeling like she’s about to die (she feels like she is) – holding on like nothing else matters (nothing does).

Chloe squeezing her hand gently forces her to look up. “I know,” Beca replies, trying to catch sight of her own favourite blue eyes. There is no feasible way that Beca will ever stop loving Chloe because she feels it echo from every depth of her being. It’s a huge part of her day-to-day life. Chloe is sunshine and fresh air – air that Beca needs so badly on a regular basis.

Not saying it back to Chloe is Beca’s only semblance of strength even though she hates herself for it. She hates making Chloe cry even more. She hates feeling out of control, out of her element, like she’s an intern again, begging for just one chance.

Chloe would never let go. Beca is so aware of that fact.

“I love you,” Chloe says.

“I know,” Beca repeats.

Chloe stands in front of Beca then, bright blue eyes underscored by threatening tears. She forces Beca to look at her – blue clashing against blue for what feels like an ending to a story. Not  _a_ story.  _The_ story. Maybe it’s an interlude if Beca’s feeling positive. A bridge in a song about inevitable heartbreak.

And just like that, Beca is cupping Chloe’s neck and tugging at soft curls so she can kiss her – bringing her back to where it all began. She tangles her fingers through Chloe’s hair, their feet automatically moving towards the bedroom like they both knew where this was going anyway.

When the morning breaks, Beca wonders if she can just freeze time. Would it be too much to ask?

She runs through the list of meetings she has to attend in her mind and bites her lip, trailing her hand over the expanse of Chloe’s back, sliding through tangles and snarls of hair against soft skin.

“Let me keep you for one more night,” Chloe had whispered, all breathless, with hair flowing down and tickling the sides of Beca’s face. “I want to feel you when I fall asleep.”

Beca remembers the soft press of flesh against flesh, eyes falling shut to an uneasy sleep, ears deafening to the pounding of her own heart echoing in her ears.

Oddly, she thinks of Chloe’s retelling of some catchphrase or something, about being the home her heart lived in. It rings – echoes – around Beca’s head because she can’t help but think of the truth in the oddity of that statement. No matter where she lived in the world, no matter who she met, she’d always have Chloe to thank for creating a home for her heart to live in and she knew it was a matter of when – and not if – for them to find their way back together.

When Chloe wakes up, she is cold inside and out. There’s a note scrawled on what she supposes used to be Beca’s pillow.

_I love you, too._


	8. (M/E) Beca and Chloe’s Instagram Posts, March 2020

 

 

* * *

 

  
Location: UC Davis Veterinary School Gala

Word count: 1323

(higher rating than my usual stuff, you’ve been warned)

(inspo by bechloe trash partnership w/ [@velmster](https://tmblr.co/m7Xxya7I8cT6Tz2PSlBUmZw))

 

* * *

 

When Chloe had invited her for the weekend to attend the gala as her plus one (”obviously”), Beca had jumped at the chance to finally see her girlfriend again after three weeks of not being able to visit or have much significant conversation. She took the first available flight out of New York and landed just in time to have one celebratory drink with Chloe before freshening up as best as she could in Chloe’s bathroom. 

Beca’s not complaining in any way, though. Not about the frequent flyer points she’s racking up, not about the distance, not about the increasingly hectic schedule because of moments like  _this_. Because Chloe looks  _stunning_. She is radiant and vibrant, and Beca is so proud of her for finally finishing off her degree.

They find their table easily. Chloe has only just taken off her jacket with the intention of bringing it to coat check when she looks up to see Beca’s eyes boring into her. She swallows, feeling like Beca’s eyes can see right through her – though if she’s reading them correctly, they’re doing their best to see right through her clothes.

She coughs, trying to alleviate the sudden lump in her throat and moves towards Beca to grab her coat as well. She arches an eyebrow when Beca just shakes her head and smiles that little infuriating half-smile, half-smirk that never fails to warm Chloe from head to toe.

She vaguely hears Beca say something about the bathroom before she walks away. Chloe pauses, unsure if she should follow. She waits a few seconds, standing rigidly and awkwardly. She puts her jacket down slowly and avoids eye contact with her friends.

“I...should go check on her,” Chloe says lamely, not even bothering to find an excuse. She hears a snicker or two behind her and wills herself to straighten her back and stalk off after Beca.

“Took you long enough,” comes Beca’s voices when Chloe rounds the corner. “C’mere,” Beca demands, lifting her hands to cup Chloe’s cheeks. Like that, they’re kissing messily, all lips and tongue and the occasional bumping of teeth. “You look so good,” Beca manages to say, which means Chloe isn’t kissing her enough to shut her up.

Chloe tries again, boldly sliding a hand to Beca’s ass, only slightly disappointed when she recognizes that Beca’s still wearing her jacket.

“Bathroom,” Beca mumbles, tilting her body further into Chloe’s. Chloe nods absently, steering them to the closest women’s room down the hall, though it proves difficult when Beca insists on stopping them every few steps to shove her tongue down her throat.

Chloe stumbles backward into the bathroom, her mouth leaving Beca’s only for a second before she’s hungrily kissing her again, hands winding in Beca’s hair. She feels a groan rumble through Beca’s chest and tugs tighter, focusing on the way Beca’s lips slide deliciously against hers. She vaguely hears the lock click shut and Beca mutters “thank God. It’s not one with stalls.”

“That’s never stopped you before,” Chloe whispers hotly against Beca’s mouth, giving her bottom lip a sharp nip and tightening her hold in her hair. “Did you bring me here – “ another nip, this time against Beca’s jaw. “– to talk – ” Teeth scrape Beca’s earlobe, earning Chloe a groan “– Mitchell?”

There’s a thrill in pushing Beca to her absolute limit. She likes seeing the way Beca’s eyes darken and glint and the way she always fucks Chloe just that much harder. Chloe doesn’t care, especially not now. She’s been desperately needing Beca on her – in her – since the moment she stepped out of the taxi and into Chloe’s line of sight.

Now that they’re here at the gala, Chloe wishes they’d stayed home. She’d have Beca on her bed over this anytime, though there is an appeal to the way Beca is displaying a minor exhibitionist streak.

Chloe finds herself with her back shoved against the door, almost painfully, but Beca’s hands are roaming her, letting her fingertips trail hot paths across whatever exposed skin she can find.  Beca’s mouth leaves an equally searing, bruising trail down her neck, pausing to nip and suck pointedly at the spot just above Chloe’s collarbone. She leans into it at first, whimpering, loving the feeling, but recalls suddenly that her dress has a lower neckline. “Beca!” she hisses, pulling her girlfriend’s hair. “I can’t go back out there looking, looking –”

Beca lifts her head, hands tightening on Chloe’s waist. “Fucked?” Beca asks, her breath washing over Chloe’s face. Chloe bites back a whimper at the sight of the absolutely sinful smirk on Beca’s face. “Have it your way,” she says, carefully sinking to her knees, somehow making it look graceful in her pretty little heels.

“Oh,” Chloe manages to breathe because she’s suddenly lightheaded, looking down at Beca who is looking up at her with a heavy gaze and swollen, smirking lips.

Beca steadies herself by planting her hands on Chloe’s thighs to steady them both. She then drags her hands up, painfully slowly, halting at the hem of Chloe’s dress. Beca tsks and bunches the fabric at Chloe’s waist haphazardly. The sudden predatory look on Beca’s face makes Chloe’s breath catch. Beca is roughly tugging her panties down with one hand while further bunching her dress up with the other.

“Fuck,” Chloe whimpers when she feels Beca’s warm breath somewhere along her left thigh. There’s a hint of tongue when Beca presses a kiss on the exposed skin, then another as she trails higher. She palms the back of Beca’s head, trying to coax her girlfriend closer. “Hurry up,” she demands – or at least, she tries to. It comes out as more of a breathless whisper because her throat is dry and her heart feels like it’s about to pound right out of her chest. She fists her other hand into Beca’s hair, moaning when Beca licks up right into her without warning, making her head smack the bathroom door.  The pain blinds her momentarily, though she’s likely conflating the temporary blackout with the way Beca and her tongue are skillfully shattering her very existence.

It doesn’t take long - of course it doesn’t - she’s been missing Beca for the past three weeks. Three weeks of agonizing loneliness while Beca was travelling for meetings and publicity.

Beca moans quietly when Chloe’s nails scratch at her scalp, only redoubling her efforts. She swings one of Chloe’s legs over her shoulder, only vaguely aware of the pair of panties that dangles from Chloe’s ankle.

Chloe comes with a high-pitched cry and Beca’s name on her lips. Beca’s hands grip her thighs with surprising strength and she coaxes Chloe down from her high with gentle licks and hot, open-mouthed kisses. Chloe’s eyes cross at the sensation and she all but pushes Beca away so she can take a much-needed gulp of air.

“Don’t…look so smug,” she mutters, trying to control her breathing and make sure she can stand on two legs. Beca delicately thumbs the corner of her own mouth with the kind of grace and finesse that shouldn’t be happening after what just transpired two minutes ago. Her smirk only grows at the expression on Chloe’s face.

“Don’t look so thoroughly fucked,” Beca replies, leaning in to lick a line up Chloe’s cheek to her ear.

A shiver ripples up her spine. “Stop,” she begs. “I have to look presentable.”

Beca saunters away to examine herself in the mirror. She’s still wearing her overcoat. “I kind of like this look,” she says lightly, tousling her already messy hair. “Thanks, babe.”

Chloe rolls her eyes and walks to the sink, letting Beca examine her own reflection.


	9. (M/E) Glamour US Photoshoot, August 2019

  
Location: Los Angeles, California

  * word count: 2550
  * high rating again sooo
  * inspo [@velmster](https://tmblr.co/m7Xxya7I8cT6Tz2PSlBUmZw) who keeps prompting me to write nsfw things??



 

* * *

 

“Okay, last one,” Beca whispers, letting Chloe press their lips together tenderly. “I have to get back to-”

There’s a loud sigh from behind them. “Beca, come  _on_.” It’s her make-up artist, Laura. There’s an edge in her voice. “One, stop leaving the dressing room so we can find you if necessary. Two, stop making out with your girlfriend. Hello Chloe,” she greets pleasantly.

Chloe grins, all innocence and sunshine, as if she wasn’t the one initiating the shoving of her tongue into Beca’s mouth. “Hey, Laura. How’s it going?”

Beca rolls her eyes, following obediently (lest Laura threatens to pluck her brows unevenly). Laura tuts again, eyeing the slightly smudged lipstick thanks to Chloe’s light, playful kisses. Beca’s not sure what pushed Chloe into this mood, but she’s not complaining. She likes it when Chloe comes out to support her, even if she doesn’t get to dress up or really do much of anything during Beca’s photoshoot and interview days. It just so happens that this one is on a Saturday afternoon and Chloe had just flown into Los Angeles the night before, arriving late, and only managing to curl up tiredly with Beca in bed.

Now, she lounges in Beca’s surprisingly generous dressing room, dressed down in ripped jeans, a white t-shirt, and one of Beca’s sweaters over her shoulders. She innocently flips through the pages of her textbook while Laura berates Beca for messing up her make-up  _again_. 

It’s not entirely unreasonable, Beca tells herself. She barely gets to see Chloe during the week to begin with and the monster who decided weekend photoshoots were allowed should be the one getting berated by her make-up artist.

The same makeup artist had tutted at Beca earlier for letting Chloe press playful, sweet kisses to her newly done lipstick, smudging the meticulously-applied lines. Now, Laura scolds Beca “for the last time!” while reapplying the red and touching up the faint concealer around her mouth. Beca at least has the decency to look sheepish, calling out one last apology at her retreating back. “Thirty minutes, Beca. Your manager will have a field day if this goes over schedule again.” she says without turning around, shutting the door with a click.

Not even a minute later, Chloe shifts from her position. Beca looks up from her phone to see a flash of red hair in the mirror before that same hair is tickling her face as Chloe sets her chin on top of Beca’s head and her hands on her shoulders.

“Hello,” she grins, winking at both their reflections. “Where is the she-devil?” Chloe asks casually, playing with purposefully tousled hair. 

Huffing, Beca ducks. “I’m going to get yelled at again.” She carefully dislodges Chloe’s head and rises out of her chair to eye her lipstick more carefully in the mirror. “I have direct orders to not ruin this for thirty minutes.” She gestures in a circle, indicating her whole face. “I’m sure you can contain yourself, Beale.”

Undeterred, Chloe moves the chair to the side carelessly and slides up behind Beca so they’re both visible in the mirror again. She places her hands beside Beca’s on the counter and angles her head over Beca’s shoulder to pretend to look at her watch. “Plenty of time.” Beca looks inquiringly at her.

“For what?” Beca asks cautiously. The warmth of Chloe’s body – soft, yet sturdy – against her back is already making her brain splutter in its attempts to keep her own body in line. 

Chloe’s voice drops as she leans close to Beca’s ear, “I’ve got an idea that won’t ruin your lipstick.” Her eyes never leave Beca’s in the mirror as she scrapes her teeth lightly along the shell of Beca’s ear. She can feel Beca shiver and relishes in the way her back muscles tense, resisting the urge to shiver herself. She stands as still as possible, though, and doesn’t break eye contact.

Beca can feel Chloe’s steady breathing against her back, can feel every single curve pressed against her. She’s effectively trapped against her vanity. She goes for coy. “What did you have in mind?” Beca asks casually, but the pitch of her voice betrays her.

All pretenses aside, Chloe pins Beca’s hands to the edge of the vanity. “I thought we could talk,” she whispers, warm breath tickling Beca’s ear. Something Beca has learned from years of knowing Chloe - in recent years, more intimately - is that there is consistently a playfulness to Chloe’s voice. Experience means Beca has learned to suss out the particular nuances in her tones.

Experience means that Beca knows this tone promises her that she’s in for a world of Chloe’s special brand of teasing.

This tone promises that she’s going to die. 

With that in mind, Beca forces her brain not to short-circuit because she’s due on set - due in front of a team of photographers, assistants, and the shoot’s creative director - in about half an hour. “Talk,” Beca repeats, taking a deep, steadying breath. “Talk about what?”

Chloe bites her lip, eyes travelling up and down Beca’s torso in the mirror. She enjoys the plain, soft button-up (generously unbuttoned) shirt they’ve chosen for this particular scene. Paired with Beca’s fitting, dark wash jeans and her leather jacket (Chloe notes with disappointment that it’s currently draped over the couch), it has a fantastic effect on Chloe’s mood.

The thing about Chloe’s teasing is that she’s a master of flipping all of Beca’s switches at once. Beca has about a split second of warning - the glint in Chloe’s eyes, the tightening of her fingers over Beca’s hands – before Chloe sighs, as if she’s exasperated.

The words begin to flow. “I was thinking about how it won’t smudge your makeup if I tell you how hard I’m going to fuck you later,” she murmurs, taking Beca’s earlobe into her mouth, making her twitch and blush. “We can start in the car. Maybe I won’t even let you wait. Maybe I’ll just be here, ready to…” her lips quirk into a sly smile. She trails one hand up Beca’s arm, up to her shoulder. “Well, I’ll leave that up to you.”

Beca whimpers at the thought, eyes fixed on Chloe’s helplessly.

“But for now,” Chloe continues, like this is a completely normal conversation and she doesn’t have her hips and hands and body trapping Beca against her own vanity. “For now, let’s talk about what I’m going to do to you right here.” She begins to casually unbutton more of Beca’s shirt, tracking the increasingly exposed skin with sharp eyes.

“I can’t,” Beca says, without an ounce of reluctance. “My makeup,” she attempts to protest lamely. 

Chloe hums, leaning her head down to kiss Beca’s jaw and neck. Her eyes flick up to meet Beca’s in the mirror. “What did I just say? No kissing, then,” she says simply. 

Beca’s jaw locks at the sensation. “Fine,” she grits out.

She’d be more embarrassed about how she turned on she is if she didn’t immediately feel the same telltale signs in Chloe’s body behind her: the shifts, the sharper breaths.

“We should talk about how much I love it when you lose control, Bec,” Chloe whispers. “I love the way you can barely keep your eyes open, not even when I tell you to. I love the sounds you make,” she continues. She slides a hand into her open shirt, resting just above Beca’s heart where she can feel the way it pounds insistently beneath her palm. Letting her hand rest there, she kisses the shell of Beca’s ear, mouthing at the sensitive flesh. 

“What sounds?” Beca dares to ask because she has a death wish. Her make-up artist is going to kill her if Chloe doesn’t first.

Chloe doesn’t answer; instead she untucks the shirt from Beca’s jeans and unbuttons the rest, letting it fall open. Her fingers graze Beca’s skin ever so slightly – a feather light touch that rockets through Beca with startling intensity.

“God,” Beca chokes out when Chloe rocks into her.

“Sounds like that,” Chloe says softly. She runs a hand firmly across the plane of Beca’s stomach, lingering with touches and scrapes of her nails before she deftly unbuttons her jeans.

“Please kiss me,” Beca whimpers, not bothering to control her words. She tilts her head, trying chase Chloe’s mouth, but her girlfriend evades her, chuckling breathlessly. Her hands scrabble for something - anything - on the surface of the vanity. She plants a hand against the mirror just as Chloe’s hand possessively cups a breast.  
  
There’s another breathless laugh against the other side of her neck before Chloe is nipping down on her neck, her shoulder, and biting against the cloth of her shirt. Ignoring Beca, Chloe’s other hand slides past the waistband of Beca’s opened jeans (Beca is trying her best not think about how she’s ruining this pair of expensive designer jeans), straight past her the elastic of her underwear.  
  
Beca moans then, loud and unrestrained, sweaty palm sliding against the mirror. The glass smudges a little, but Beca’s vision is blurring around the edges anyway because Chloe is relentless. Their eyes catch in the mirror and Beca tries to focus on the predatory glint in her girlfriend’s eyes - she really does - but her eyes slip closed because Chloe’s pushing a third finger into her and -  
  
She stops.  
  
Chloe stops and Beca just about loses her mind, letting her chin fall against her collarbone.

Chloe nips at Beca’s ear, moving her hand from under the open sides of Beca’s shirt so she can grip Beca’s jaw gently. “Open your eyes,” she rasps, low and hungry into Beca’s ear. “Keep your eyes open and watch me fuck you, or I’ll stop.”  
  
Beca obeys. 

She’s too far gone to say anything witty or sarcastic in reply, so she obeys. She just lets her mouth part in a shaky gasp before words fall from her mouth in an uncontrollable stream. “Please, please,  _please_  - fuck, Chloe -” 

Chloe cuts her off with a breathy “Later.” Chloe’s hand closes around her wrist - the one against the mirror - and shoves her hand back down on the wooden vanity table. “And keep your hands here.”  
  
Beca nods frantically, a high-pitched sound rising in her throat because Chloe still hasn’t moved her fingers an inch, hasn’t done  _anything_. The kiss Chloe places on her cheek is far too innocent for what’s happening before their eyes. It drives Beca crazy.  
  
“Now,  _watch_ ,” Chloe husks, her voice uncharacteristically rough and low.  
  
So, Beca watches with dark, hooded eyes.

She watches the way Chloe’s hand moves beneath the confines of her jeans. Shifting purposefully and rhythmically beneath the fabric. Her jeans slide down her hips a little bit and she moans when it allows Chloe more flexibility with her hand. 

She watches more of her own skin appear when Chloe’s unoccupied hand drags the material of her shirt to the side - her shirt which is rumpled and hangs lopsidedly, half-off one shoulder. Chloe’s hair melds beautifully with hers, the red intertwining with the carefully styled brown, falling over Beca’s shoulder and tickling the edge of her exposed arm. 

She watches the way Chloe’s chin nestles into the intersection of her neck and shoulder, her mouth parted slightly in a mixture of awe and arousal.

She watches the way Chloe’s eyes just lock onto her own and the way she hides a smile into the damp skin of Beca’s neck.

She watches Chloe’s eyelids flutter, feels the deep inhale against her skin, then the way Chloe’s lips part so she’s whispering against her neck. “When you come, I hope you come so hard that you see fucking stars, Beca Mitchell,” Chloe says lowly. Beca chokes at both the curling of Chloe’s fingers and the curse that leaves her lips. “I hope that every time you look at a vanity, you think about this.”  
  
Beca’s knuckles turn white from how hard she’s gripping the edge of the table. She gives up and lets her palms flatten again the surface, just trying to keep herself from smacking her face against the mirror. Chloe’s voice is absolutely wrecking her and she thinks it shows in the way her jaw is slack and she’s just barely holding on for dear life.

Chloe gasps sharply behind her, her breath puffing against Beca’s neck. Beca barely registers the way Chloe rakes her nails across her stomach, only registering the way she can’t help but clench around Chloe’s relentless and insistent fingers; she clenches  _hard_ , her hands knocking her water bottle straight off the vanity as she struggles to find purchase on the wooden surface.  
  
She lifts her eyes, finally focusing on the mirror again and their combined reflection. Chloe’s eyes are as bright as ever, shining with the same desperation that Beca feels coiling inside her. It threatens to tear her apart, but she welcomes it wholeheartedly, knowing that Chloe will be there to help her pick up the pieces. Chloe’s eyes meet hers again, this time hinting at finality, and it’s the connection Beca craves and  _needs_  so badly - she inhales sharply, hips pushing back into Chloe. She can’t even enjoy Chloe’s shaky, almost-inaudible whine because she’s about to black out. She’s entirely relying on Chloe’s now steady arm around her middle to hold her up because her legs are trembling.

Chloe’s kiss against her cheek this time is tender and fleeting. “You’re okay,” she whispers. “Love you,” she murmurs repeatedly, moving her hands to lightly cup Beca’s hips. She kisses lightly at Beca’s cheek and ear, waiting patiently as she slowly regains the feelings in her legs and arms and hands - her entire body.

The tender moment is gone in a flash when Beca finally regains control of her senses.

“No kissing,” Chloe reminds her even when Beca whirls and shoves her towards the couch. Her eyes rake up and down Beca’s body, taking in the rumpled shirt and unbuttoned jeans.

“I don’t care,” Beca replies hoarsely. She cups the back of Chloe’s neck and tugs her in for a bruising kiss. She tangles her fingers into Chloe’s hair, keeping her in place while her tongue slides sensuously against Chloe’s bottom lip before flicking inside Chloe’s mouth.

She’s only just opening Chloe’s jeans when there’s a sharp rap on the door. 

Beca groans, leaning back when she hears the director’s voice, annoyed and persistent.

Without saying anything (thankfully), Chloe tosses her jacket at her just as she finishes buttoning up her shirt. Hastily, she puts it on and struggles to tuck in her shirt into her jeans.

“Beca!” her manager calls, irritated.

“Coming!” She mock-glares at Chloe. “This is your fault.” 

Chloe arches an eyebrow, reclining further on the couch. “I look forward to what you think is a suitable punishment when you get back.” She sighs then, lifting her arms as she yawns exaggeratedly. Beca hates the way her eyes fall immediately - instinctively - to the sliver of skin that shows when Chloe’s shirt rides up. She grins at Beca. “Hurry back.”

When Laura catches sight of her, the glare she sends Beca is so icy that Beca recoils sheepishly. She raises her brush threateningly.

Beca spends most of the shoot sulking at the camera.


	10. (T) i like the way you sound in the morning

**summary** : beca’s not one for planning things, really.

no warnings, really, except it’s soft and fluffy??

_(inspired by the[fifth gif](http://78.media.tumblr.com/148f9ad2069e8e09092125501bcbe0a0/tumblr_og57ps9UGm1ukoo8uo5_500.gif) in this wonderful [photoset](http://captainpeachperfect.tumblr.com/post/152746935213/bechloe-au-in-which-beca-and-chloe-are-secretly) by [@captainpeachperfect](https://tmblr.co/mBWetfv625hQl4ADZyrt0HQ) - hope you don’t mind!!!!)_

**word count** : 1209

 

* * *

 

Beca was planning on waiting.

There’s no rulebook, really, though there are a million and one expectations.

There had been talk of flowers and singing (Aubrey’s idea); there had been talk of hiring a marching band (Fat Amy’s idea); there had been talk of maybe a scavenger hunt (Emily’s idea).

So, yes. Beca was planning on waiting.

Instead, there’s something that just tugs at every nerve in her body as she lies on her side, watching the flutter of Chloe’s eyelids and the way her kiss-swollen lips part in a breathless exhale.

There’s something in the early Saturday morning moment that Beca feels emanating from within their bodies. It’s not quite the residual heat echoing between them through the languid sighs Beca can hear and the content smile stretching across Chloe’s lips. It’s not quite the draft from the slightly open window, pleasant for Los Angeles if Beca’s being honest. It’s not even the way Chloe has somehow tugged about seventy-five per cent of their blankets over most of her own body.

It’s in the way Beca still feels like she’s catching her breath. It’s in the way she feels pleasant and warm all over, largely thanks to Chloe. It’s in the way they’re lying face to face, sharing a pillow, and just gazing at each other through half-lidded eyes. It’s in the blue against blue, being unquestionably in love, and just basking in an afterglow.

Beca drags her fingers along the soft skin of Chloe’s upper arm, trailing up shoulder slowly - so slowly - and watches as Chloe’s eyes flutter closed again. A small lingering flush grows more prominent across her cheekbones and neck. She trails her fingers repeatedly in swirls across Chloe’s skin and tries to memorize the expressions and facial twitches that her girlfriend displays with each touch to her skin. It’s feather-light, but each movement and brush of skin makes Beca’s toes curl; makes Beca’s heart pound.

“C’mere,” she rasps, unable to resist. Chloe obliges, lips already parted and ready for Beca’s kiss, tender and slow, yet imbued with the desperation and longing of their unexpected wake-up activities. Chloe’s fingers tangle into Beca’s hair, pulling her further into her orbit, as she always has and probably always will do.

If Beca had been planning on something, it was that she had been planning on waiting, really.

But there’s something she can’t quite shake as she pulls back slightly, her breath huffs across Chloe’s chin, dislodging a strand of hair delicately; but there’s a haziness in Chloe’s eyes and the way her hair messily sprawls across the rumbled fabric of their pillowcase; but Chloe slides her own hand from under the sheet to brush against Beca’s chin, then swipes her thumb over Beca’s lip, rubbing the slightly swollen flesh gently -

“Marry me,” Beca whispers before pressing a slow, tender kiss to Chloe’s thumb which has stilled just over lips. She takes the opportunity to grab Chloe’s hand to kiss the palm and brings it in close, tucking it against her chest. She marvels that somehow Chloe’s hand is persistently cool to the touch and shivers as it presses against her own warm skin. She lets Chloe feel the pounding of her heart; she lets Chloe feel the reality of her love for her.

“What?” Chloe asks, morning rasp still present; morning rasp still sending a thrill up Beca’s spine. Her eyes are marginally more alert.

Beca isn’t one for many words when they don’t feel necessary, but Chloe manages to pull them out of her no matter what.

“I love you,” Beca says instead. “Will you marry me?”

“I -” Chloe stumbles. “I love you, too,” she says with nothing but pure honesty, eyes wide and locked onto Beca’s. “I –“ She chokes.

Beca doesn’t have a grand speech planned, or at least – there’s not one she’s prepared for this very moment.

(And yet, nothing has felt more important than this moment, as if everything has led to this moment, Beca thinks.)

If she did have one planned, it’d be something along the lines of her detailing the ways in which Chloe makes her feel complete and whole, even on her worst days. She’d talk about the myriad of blues she can see in Chloe’s eyes – losing herself in veritable of oceans of love, desire, and unrestrained happiness. She counts herself blessed to be loved by Chloe, let alone for the past three years of unadulterated happiness.

If she did have a speech planned, she’d talk about how she doesn’t want to imagine what life without Chloe would be because she doesn’t want to imagine life without pure sunshine, daily musical performances, and having an absolute angel by her side to help her fight her demons.

If she did have a speech planned, she’d talk about the many ways Chloe smiles at her, kisses her, makes love to her – all the ways in which Chloe  _loves_  Beca with every inch of her being.

But she doesn’t have a huge speech planned because it sticks somewhere in the middle of her chest as she props herself further up on her elbow. Beca watches as tears well up in Chloe’s eyes and thinks about all the ways in which she’s desperately tried to make herself better for Chloe too; thinks about how she wants Chloe to always to feel safe and warm; thinks about how Chloe is beautiful inside and out and she never wants her to forget that fact about herself.

“Chlo,” she says quietly. Firmly. “Marry me. Please.”

Chloe is nodding and all but twisting her limbs around Beca in a tight, trembling hug. “Yes,” she whispers, half her face buried in Beca’s neck.

She does have a ring, amidst all the lack of planning. She twists uncomfortably so that she can roll herself (and Chloe) over and reach into her bedside table. She rifles through the stacks of folders she used to cover it up – it being a small, completely recognizable, and cliché blue box.

Chloe catches sight of it immediately and buries her face back into Beca’s neck. “Oh my god,” she mumbles, pressing her fingers into Beca’s shoulder before she’s squirming away and covering her face with her hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“So that was a yes, right?” Beca asks because she has to be sure; because her throat feels tight with emotion and she’s about to start crying.

“Absolutely,” Chloe whispers. She drags her hands down her face and blows strands of unruly hair out of her face. “Oh my god,” she repeats.

Beca carefully ( _carefully_ because she’s trying not tremble) lifts Chloe’s hand and gently slides the ring onto her finger.

“Beca,” Chloe utters. She doesn’t say anything more because she’s gazing at the ring adorning her finger with awe and love shining in her eyes. Her gaze doesn’t last long though because she’s looking back at Beca with the entire world in her eyes.

Beca thinks there’s something poetic about how she never planned to stay at Barden, never planned to stay in a crappy apartment in Brooklyn, never planned to lose Chloe without even  _having_  her, never planned to kiss Chloe what feels like a lifetime ago -

And ultimately, seeing the world in Chloe’s eyes, Beca knows she was never one for waiting or planning anyway.


	11. (T) we know where we’ve been, all these miles together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Beca and Chloe + firsts

**summary:**  it’s the little things, really.

Bechloe firsts, but none of that first kiss/first date stuff, sorry. like 3/4s of this ‘fic’ is the ultrasound, tbh.

  1. _the first pizza date_
  2. _the first morning-after_
  3. _the first time house-hunting together_
  4. _the first ultrasound_



**word count:**  3,027

 

* * *

 

 

##  **_1\. first pizza date_ **

“Want me to order a pizza, Chlo?” Beca calls out into the living room as Chloe loads their Netflix queue.

“Yep!” Chloe returns. Beca can hear the preview of  _another_  cooking competition show and prays to God that Chloe doesn’t select it because the shows honestly stress her out beyond belief.

Beca tugs the pizza flyer off the fridge. “What do you want?”

“Whatever you want!” There’s a pause. “Wait – anything but Hawaiian. I can’t stand pineapple on pizza.”

Beca freezes.

“Bec?” Chloe asks when there’s no response.  Her footsteps approach the kitchen. “Uh, what’s going on?” she asks, looking between the loosely held menu in one hand and the phone in Beca’s other hand.

“You don’t like pineapple on pizza?”

Chloe almost laughs at the absurd question, but the genuine shock on Beca’s face is enough to disarm her and force her into loving and supportive girlfriend mode.

“No – I just thought  _you_ wouldn’t like pineapple on pizza. I figured you’d like…hate it or something.”

“Dude, I’m not a monster. I love pineapple on pizza.”

Chloe is so grateful that Beca turns around to dial the number so that she can’t see the horrified expression on her face.

* * *

 

##  _**2\. the first morning-after** _

The small mountain of pancakes continues to grow as Beca absentmindedly ladles more and more batter into the pan. She probably should have used less ingredients, but cooking has always been therapeutic for her.

She’s not particularly stressed about anything too dire, just that there’s been a lot on her mind lately and the label has been riding her pretty hard over the past few weeks. 

It’s a lie, actually. She’s only jittery and excited because Chloe’s visiting Los Angeles, and she had woken up to a mouthful of red hair and soft, warm skin pressed right up against her body. She’s still thrumming with the high of waking up next to Chloe after their night’s activities and she willed herself to get out of bed and try to do  _something_  nice for Chloe as opposed to just staring at her for the next hour.

She’s so grateful that Chloe has found time to fly down to L.A. for an extended break since she finished with her latest round of finals.

Beca’s heart had soared upon seeing Chloe for what felt like the first time in _forever_ since they started “officially dating” (“totes dating” as Chloe said), so there had been very little speaking and more physical manifestation of how much they had missed each other.

One thing had  _definitely_ led to another, so Beca lets her sleep for a few more moments while she makes pancakes-

“Fuck,” she says softly, finally taking in the almost-teetering pile of pancakes. She hopes that Chloe is going to appreciate pancakes for breakfast  _and_  lunch. Beca warily eyes the pancakes, counting at least fifteen before she stops and decides to step away from the stove slowly.

“Hello,” Chloe rasps from behind her, startling her momentarily. Beca relaxes as soon as Chloe’s arms slide around her waist snugly and her chin nestles into Beca’s shoulder. “You left me all alone in bed,” she whispers, nipping at Beca’s ear. She soothes the nip with a slow, languid kiss, following that with smaller kisses peppered along the edge of her jaw and then down her neck.

Beca just hums, reaching out to turn the stove off quickly because Chloe’s hands have already started an ascent upwards, under her shirt.

“You’re awake now,” Beca comments, breath hitching on the last word. “Hello,” she croaks when Chloe’s hands slide up to her breasts.

“You take advantage of me all night,” Chloe comments, hips shifting behind Beca almost restlessly. “And you don’t even kiss me good morning?”

Beca grins, spinning in Chloe’s arms. She slides her own hands up Chloe’s arms, grinning at Chloe’s choice of clothing. She loves the look of one of her own flannels – indecently short on Chloe – buttoned up about half way and sinfully tiny underwear. She’s not sure clothing was entirely necessary, but she supposes she can appreciate Chloe’s current aesthetic.

“Nice shirt,” she says lightly. “Have I mentioned how much I love you?” she asks, leaning up to meet Chloe for a kiss, which Chloe delivers, gently pushing her lips against Beca’s. Beca revels in the gentleness and softness, a stark contrast to the way Chloe’s nails scrape up her back, a direct reminder of their night.

Chloe laughs a little breathlessly into the kiss when Beca whimpers quietly. “That’s a lot of pancakes,” Chloe murmurs through increasingly desperate kisses. She allows Beca to steer them back into the bedroom.

“We’ll definitely be eating them later,” Beca promises, already pushing the unbuttoned flannel off Chloe’s shoulders.

* * *

 

##  **_3\.  first time house-hunting together_ **

Beca has always hated the concept of open houses. The idea of letting complete strangers roam your staged home and contemplate their own existence in what used to be  _your_  space.

Growing up, she always thought that having a home meant that both parents would just exist in the same space without really acknowledging each other, or that having a home meant being trapped in one space, leaving a person open and vulnerable to being abandoned.

Meeting Chloe changed her perspective. Falling in love with Chloe changed her life.

She watches Chloe excitedly rifle through the listings their realtor just dropped off and all she can see is Chloe and their future baby – a literal baby that Beca will be responsible for – in the foyer of their new home or apartment. It makes her completely helpless and yet, she’s so excited to really begin her life with Chloe as not only her wife, but her life partner, her co-parent – the mother of her child.

“Bec, come check this out,” Chloe says, pointing at a listing. “We should go to the open house this weekend,” she suggests.

Beca moves to sit next to her wife, reaching out with both hands – one hand to hold Chloe’s hand, and the other to pick up the listing.

Chloe’s thumb rubs lovingly over her knuckle while she peruses the listing.

It’s a lovely home outside of Los Angeles, an appropriate-enough distance for them to drive and also secluded enough that they can avoid the bustle of the city. There’s a yard, high fences, and a garage. The neighborhood is vaguely familiar to Beca – she recalls that it’s safe, with decent schools in the area.

All of this information comes to her automatically and she realizes how much she’s actually been thinking about this since she and Chloe decided to start a family; since she and Chloe decided they needed to find a more child-friendly place to live.

“What do you think?” Chloe asks quietly, cutting through Beca’s musings.

Beca knows then that no matter which house or apartment they end up choosing, as long as she has Chloe by her side, everything will work out.

She turns and leans in to kiss Chloe, letting the kiss linger while her heart spills over with love.

“I think,” Beca starts, running her tongue over her bottom lip. “That I love you so much, and we should definitely check it out.”

* * *

 

##  **_4\. the first ultrasound_ **

Beca is jittery and nervous - similar to how she had been when meeting Chloe’s parents for the first time. This is, however, entirely different, and she thinks she might jump straight out of her skin at every car that zips past. Her eyes dart around the busy Los Angeles intersection while Chloe taps out a message to Aubrey on her phone with one hand and sips from her water bottle nonchalantly.

“We’re crossing,” Beca announces unnecessarily. Chloe is already making her way across the street. “Wait! There are -” she gestures around. “There are  _cars_ , Chlo.”

Chloe sighs and puts her phone away so she can intertwine their fingers. “Beca, I am an adult who can walk across the street.” She grins and tugs Beca quickly across the rest of the intersection. “Relax,” she instructs, tugging Beca into her body so she can drape her arms over Beca’s shoulder and plant a big, sloppy kiss on Beca’s face. “You’re being excessively  _Beca_  today. What’s wrong?”

There are a lot of things that Beca can point out, like how they could have just taken a cab instead of taking a walk. There’s a homeless man just around the corner, peeing, she’s pretty sure. There are so many people bustling about.

It’s not that Beca is adverse to the outdoors, she’s just been on edge lately, with work and the most recent developments in her personal - her  _family_  - life.

“We are meeting our baby for the first time,” Beca says, uncharacteristically cuddling into Chloe’s side. Chloe’s arms come up around her automatically while she rubs her cheek against Beca’s hair. Beca’s uncaring about the passerbys who seem to do a double-take upon the brief recognition that  _Beca Mitchell_ is in fact being cuddled like a child in the middle of the day on a crowded Los Angeles intersection.

“We’re not really  _meeting_  anybody,” Chloe reminds her wife gently. She lets her nose sink into Beca’s hair for a moment, basking in the comfort. “Everything’s going to be okay, you know that, right? We’ve done everything right and you’ve been incredible to me.”

It’s the light reassurance that Beca needs and she forces her nerves into submission before allowing Chloe to steer her into the clean, air-conditioned environment of the clinic.

The clinic is warm, unlike the hospitals and doctor’s offices that Beca has been to. The lady seated at reception - Grace - smiles fondly at them, remembering them from previous visits. “How’s my favourite couple?” she says, though Beca’s sure she says that to everybody.

“Excited,” Chloe replies, unable to help her own little giggle. “Do we need to check in?”

“It’s fine. I’ll let Doctor Jansen know you’re here.”

“Thank you, Grace,” Chloe says pleasantly while Beca nervously taps her foot against the ground. She puts a hand on Beca’s forearm gently.

“Sit, babe,” Chloe says calmly. Her lips twitch into a smile. “Wanna sit here?” she asks, patting her lap playfully.

Beca’s flush creeps up her neck as she settles in the seat next to Chloe. She does end up sliding her hand across Chloe’s knee and a bit up her thigh, curling her fingers slightly. Chloe’s hand comes to rest on top of her own and Beca takes the moment admire the glint of Chloe’s wedding band, the very mild difference in their skin tones, and how soft and warm Chloe’s hand feels. 

“I love you,” Chloe says quietly.

“I love you too,” Beca replies, feeling at peace, finally.

The peace doesn’t last, however, as they’re moved into the examination room and Chloe gets settled in her gown and stirrups.

Doctor Jansen greets them warmly and they exchange pleasantries. She lets them have some privacy while she goes to retrieve her notes and clipboard. Beca fidgets excessively, looking around at the machinery and posters and pamphlets.

“That can’t be comfortable,” Beca mutters as Chloe reclines into position.

“I honestly think you’re more uncomfortable than I am,” Chloe replies lightly, adjusting her feet in the stirrups a little. She grins at the sight of Doctor Jansen’s attempt at biting back a smile. “Need I remind you that  _you_  did this to me,” she says, mock-angrily, tapping Beca’s forearm with her finger.

Beca, predictably, makes a choked noise and nearly trips over herself. “That is  _not true_  and  _not_ possible.” She continues grumbling, but pulls up a chair to sit next to Chloe for the time being.

Chloe hushes her and tugs her in for a brief kiss while Doctor Jansen sets up the monitor system. It’s the only real surefire way to get Beca to either shut up or calm down. Or both. “It’s fine,” she murmurs against Beca’s mouth.

“Fine,” Beca mutters, pulling back, but wrapping one arm around Chloe’s shoulder and holding her hand.

“Are you ready?” Doctor Jansen asks (Beca thinks it’s a tone too lighthearted for such a pivotal moment, but she doesn’t voice that lest Doctor Jansen does something horrible to her wife or tells them their baby has three feet or something).

“Yes,” Chloe says confidently, while Beca manages a nod.

There’s a brief silence, then –

Chloe feels Beca’s hand tighten in hers before she hears the sharp inhale. She glances at Beca for a moment, just to ground them both, before she focuses back on the monitor. All discomfort flies out the window. Chloe has a fleeting thought that the extremely fast heartbeat is her own, but she recognizes that it’s – it’s their baby’s. It’s their baby’s heartbeat, thudding along at its own pace. Growing.

“I think that your baby might be little bit too small to show up clearly on the screen,” Doctor Jansen says gently, peering at the screen while carefully maneuvering the wand. “But that sound – that sound is all from your baby.” She pauses, brightening. “Oh - wait, I can see the sac and your baby!”

Chloe tilts her head, trying to see amidst the black and static and Beca leans carefully around her to see as well. They both hold their breath as Doctor Jansen points out a little dot to the side.

Chloe sniffles a little and chances a sly glance at Beca who is too focused on the monitor to stop her. “Tiny, just like Beca,” she says.

The fact that Beca’s only reaction is a slight hand squeeze is the most telling reaction.

They sit in silence for a few seconds, just listening to the sound of the heartbeat, committing it to memory.

Beca’s life has been music for as long as she can remember. Thinking back, music was her only escape - her only solace - through every shitty thing that happened to her through her formative years. Music also brought her to some of the most important people in her life at Barden and Los Angeles and New York. Music brought her  _Chloe_. Chloe, who she thinks might be the embodiment of what music means to her.

Now, listening to her baby’s heartbeat, holding Chloe’s hand, Beca can only think about how this is the embodiment of love, happiness, and everything she’s ever wanted. It’s more than a song, more than a rhythm - it’s life - her life and Chloe’s life intertwined.

“I’ve never heard anything more wonderful,” Beca manages to say, sounding awestruck. She doesn’t even have any strength to be horrified over the fact that she’s choking up and on the verge of tears, but Chloe looks equally stricken and nods her agreement dazedly, focused back on the monitor.

“Neither have I,“ Chloe agrees, thinking of every song she’s ever heard – every song Beca’s ever sung to her, about her, for her – nothing compares to this moment. Sharing this moment with Beca forces everything else into her periphery. “We’re…that’s ours,” she mumbles, in awe. “That’s - That’s our baby,” she repeats, wonder creeping into her tone.

Beca smiles at the generally dark screen, imagining that the tiny blob can see them and smile back.

Chloe tugs Beca a little so she’s closer to her mouth. “That’s our baby,” Chloe whispers, breath warm against Beca’s ear. She kisses Beca’s cheek. Beca can only nod, nuzzling her nose into Chloe’s hair and letting the moment catch up with her – every moment has led to this and she’s starting her family with the love of her life. It’s appropriate to cry, she supposes.

Seeing their baby – hearing a heartbeat that’s both vibrant and  _present_  – is just a reminder that she and Beca are about to be parents. They  _are_  parents.

It’s Beca who voices it out – Beca who sniffles once and tightens her hold on her hand. Beca who presses a kiss to the side of Chloe’s head. “We’re moms,” she breathes out, voice still shaky and breathless. She gazes at the glistening in Chloe’s eyes and knows that they’re both feeling the same overwhelming emotion all at once. Together.

Chloe laughs – it sticks a little in her throat, but she doesn’t care. She shakes her head a little, forgetting that their doctor is still present, and wonders how she can still fall more in love with Beca every day. “We’re moms,” she agrees. Beca doesn’t bother holding herself back and tilts Chloe’s head towards her for a moment, kissing her gently. The kiss lingers and she thumbs away a couple stray tears that slide down Chloe’s face before she pulls back, allowing a small blush to form on her cheeks at the sight of Chloe’s knowing grin.

Chloe wonders how many audio files and copies of this heartbeat they can get. She wants to listen to it every night before she falls asleep. It makes her buzz with anticipation, excitement, and every other positive feeling she can muster; it’s overwhelming, almost.

“Beca,” Chloe murmurs, prompting Beca to lock her gaze on Chloe’s.

“What is it? Is it the baby?” Beca demands, eyes alert and fixated on Chloe’s face searchingly. “Are you going to throw up again?”

Chloe just shakes her head, wraps her arms around Beca and lets herself cry into Beca’s shoulder. “I’m just so happy,” she whispers, shamelessly wiping her tears on the soft fabric of Beca’s t-shirt.

“Speaking of,” Doctor Jansen interrupts, looking mildly apologetic. “Any abnormalities with nausea or sensitivity?”

“Just the regular amount, I guess,” Chloe admits, leaning back from Beca slightly. “Both emotionally and physically. At least, I think so. I haven’t had anything unusual happen. Nothing out of the ordinary from what I’ve read and researched.”

“Lots of nausea,” Beca chimes in, wrinkling her nose.

Chloe rolls her eyes. Beca had mentioned off-handedly that she could give Aubrey a run for her money.

“Just a bit longer,” their doctor tells them, smiling.

It rings through Chloe’s mind - and through Beca’s as well, she can tell - that they really are going to fly through the next year. She watches Beca hastily swipe at some excess tears and smiles to herself, looking forward to welcoming a new addition to their family.


	12. (T) half the city is now too big for your taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Chloe's always trying to take her clothes off after she's had a few drinks and Beca just wants to out her to bed -☆

_lmao i love this a lot! Here’s a pre-USO thing, could be AU, could be canon?? who knows????? not me_

note: drink responsibly, friends.

**word count:**  1535

 

* * *

 

It was bearable when the Bellas were around. Beca usually rallied Fat Amy or Stacie or Flo to help wrangle Chloe back to the Bella House after a night of drinking and/or partying.

(They usually go hand-in-hand.)

Now, in New York, Beca has to figure out how to do this by herself because Amy leaves them alone often enough that Beca has become Chloe’s confidante, drinking buddy, and general keeper because Chloe’s been feeling as directionless and tired as Beca has. It’s just that Chloe’s coping mechanism has manifested in trying out every bar they have within their area or a few subway stops away. 

It’s not particularly new, nor is it completely dangerous because Chloe manages her alcohol well-enough. It’s just that, as Beca has observed, Chloe has a tendency to take her clothes off - or at least, a layer or two - whenever she gets enough alcohol in her system. Beca has a memory (it’s kind of a fond memory, if she’s being completely honest) of Chloe taking her pullover sweater off and flinging it straight at a shocked Emily’s face during their last big Bella party in the Bella house, one of their last nights of their undergraduate degrees.

Beca’s getting old, though. She wants Chloe to get to bed safely so she too can get to bed safely. New York isn’t the friendliest city for two intoxicated women, not necessarily because of the  _people_ , but rather, the amount of stairs they have to climb.

“Chlo,” Beca groans, plopping down on the second flight of stairs leading up to their apartment. Brooklyn is cheaper, but it’s not always the most convenient. Like now, as Beca’s trying to move Chloe up to their apartment so she can curl up under warm blankets and get her feet out of her heeled boots. Chloe’s already given up on the footwear pretense and is spinning one of her heels around her finger, slumped against the rusted stair railing. Beca sighs, noting that while it’s just  _footwear_ , the clothing removal has already begun. She had attempted to nip it in the bud when Chloe took off her jacket in the bar earlier.

She takes her time, moving back down the stairs carefully and sitting just a couple stairs up from Chloe. When she sits, she nudges Chloe gently with her foot. “Chlo,” she repeats, slightly louder. “Chloe. Are you doing okay?”

Chloe hums, though it’s not really an agreement. It could be a song.

Beca hums in return, hoping for a better, more articulate response. What she gets is Chloe leaning back against her leg, awkwardly tilting her head back to look at Beca with wide eyes.

“You’re spinning a little bit,” she mumbles as her head tilts. It can’t be comfortable, but Chloe does yoga or some shit, as Beca recalls. “Come down here, Bec,” she says, hiccuping. “Beca,” she says, as if correcting herself. Her brow furrows and she moves her head back into a normal position. “Bec,” she says, this time softer, as if she’s testing it out on her tongue.

“Okay,” Beca agrees, awkwardly sliding down the steps. She stops when she’s sitting on the same level as Chloe and they’re both kind of just staring at the wall ahead. “We still have to…” she gestures upward. “Go…up.”

“Let’s just stay here,” Chloe says quietly. “It’s warm,” she mutters, moving to shrug off her jacket.

Beca’s sight floats automatically to the expanse of Chloe’s shoulders that are exposed as she removes the denim jacket (the second time that night). She admires the hint of Chloe’s collarbones, the expanse of Chloe’s neck, and the gentle tone in her arms.

It’s a nice, dressy top that Chloe has on, Beca supposes. She’s considering herself lucky that Chloe isn’t trying to remove her top at this point in time.

“Why don’t we go to bed?” Beca suggests, a hopeful lilt to her voice.

Chloe faces her, then.

Beca tries not to think about how Chloe’s eyes are dark; how Chloe’s eyes glitter, just like they did in the dim, dive bar they frequent. It’s just down the block, filled with their favourite drunken crowd, but often Beca really only has eyes for Chloe and if she’s lucky (she usually is), Chloe only has eyes for her.

The same eyes that are fixated on her with a surprising intensity considering the rest of Chloe’s body is slumped against the railing. 

Beca lifts Chloe’s jacket hesitantly. “Are you cold?” she tries. “Here,” she says, quieter. She tries to drape the jacket over Chloe’s shoulders as best as she can, but ends up kind of just draping the jacket like a shapeless blanket over Chloe’s side.

“I’m not cold,” Chloe says, though it’s slightly raspy. Beca’s not going to ignore how that makes her feel.

She’s been dealing with her increasingly irritating feelings for Chloe over the past little while (read: five years, at least), and having to live and  _exist_  in such close proximity to Chloe (read: sleep in the same bed as her) has been troublesome to say the least (Read: Beca never used to be a morning person, but she has specifically been choosing to wake up early so she can catch the last vestiges of sleep leave Chloe’s face, and the slight crinkle of her nose, and the way Chloe’s smile always spreads across her face when Beca greets her in the mornings).

“I guess not,” Beca agrees, clearing her throat as her cloudy thoughts finally begin to dissipate.

“I don’t want to go upstairs,” Chloe continues.

“You don’t? Why?”

“Because I don’t want to pretend.”

Beca struggles to place if that’s a song lyric, an actual sentiment, or a fragment of a thought. “What?” she asks, settling on that.

Chloe’s silence is brief, though her fingers begin to tap nervously on her own knees.

Beca waits. 

(She’s good at waiting.)

Chloe takes a breath and words flow at a startling speed, with an intensity that makes Beca lean back momentarily.

“I don’t want to pretend like I don’t see the way you look at me in the mornings. It’s only the one thing I’ve wanted since I first met you – the one thing I think about whenever I drink, hoping that I can just have enough confidence to tell you how I feel. Felt.” Her brow furrows. “Feel,” she corrects, though it only enhances her blush. “I don’t want to go upstairs because that whole apartment is just a reminder that we’re together except in all the ways that matter, like how much I want to kiss you in the morning or how much I wish that it was just us, living together. I…I don’t know,” Chloe says, breathing out heavily. “And you’re always trying to put my clothes back on,” she tacks on, though her nose scrunches in confusion at that and she shakes her head a little.

Beca gapes and scrambles up to force herself to face Chloe head on. What she wants to say is how much Chloe means to her and how she’s trying to figure everything out herself. What comes out is a stilted “one of us has to be responsible! I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

An incredulous expression passes over Chloe’s face, mingled with affection and confusion. “I had no idea – I’m…” She trails off. “Wait, what? I…” Chloe seems to come back into her body then and straightens herself, wincing as the jacket falls down a step. She picks it up and pushes herself into a standing position. “I’m going to bed,” she says quietly. There’s a clear flush rising on her cheeks.

“Wait,” Beca says, pulling Chloe’s hand. She’s careful not to tug too hard, lest they both tumble down. “ _Wait_ ,” she repeats, even as she’s nearing Chloe’s face. She cups rosy cheeks and presses her lips against Chloe’s, the one impulsive thing she’s done since moving to New York.

It feels like tinted, blurry glasses have finally been lifted. She sinks into the kiss (read: leans up into Chloe’s body) and takes note of how Chloe’s fingers feel sliding through her hair. It feels perfect and  _right_. Beca grips the metal behind Chloe’s back, trying not to lean too much to one end. It’s kind of uncomfortable, kissing on the stairs, but logistics aside, Beca thinks that Chloe’s lips are the softest sensation she’s ever felt. Strands of Chloe’s hair tickle her neck so she slides her hand up Chloe’s jaw and cheek to brush hair away from her face while also angling herself to slide her lips against Chloe’s in an even more intimate way. Chloe whimpers and digs her nails into the leather of Beca’s jacket, hand moving erratically across the expanse of her back and shoulders.

Beca leans back, taking in Chloe’s shell-shocked expression. She feels as shocked as Chloe looks in that moment. Then-

“I  _do_  like you, I promise,” Beca murmurs, wondering if she’s actually having a religious moment of some kind. It’s the delayed verbalization of her own multi-year epiphany.

Chloe doesn’t say anything to that, though she rarely has to say much when sussing out Beca’s emotions and feelings.

Suddenly, Beca is being dragged by the hand up concrete stairs.

Chloe’s jacket lays forgotten at the bottom of the landing.


	13. (T) all that you are is all that I’ll ever need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: can you please do one where beca sings tenetife sea by ed sheeran to chloe in a camp fire night beach setting because she did something stupid unintentionally and chloe got a little jealous and now she is trying to make it up to her. THANKS A LOT!

A/N: i’ve been listening to ed’s album non-stop, so thanks for that anon! here’s some soft angst + fluff that literally gave me a cavity??? im upset

 **summary** : apologies are best served at sunset, on the beach, supposedly

 **word count** : 2143

 

* * *

“Beca.”

Chloe glances up only to see that Beca is engrossed with her phone and completely ignoring her.

“Beca,” she repeats, putting her handbag on the coffee table noisily. She nudges it against Beca’s leg, jolting Beca back into reality.

“I - sorry,” Beca says quickly. She tosses her phone aside and groans. She runs her hands over her face. “This upcoming publicity circuit is completely crazy and my writing sessions haven’t really been going well.”

Chloe’s stance softens and she moves to sit next to Beca on the couch. She leans her forehead into Beca’s shoulder and curls her hand around Beca’s arm. “You’re going to be fine,” she whispers. “Just take some time to yourself today.”

“I hope working from home helps,” Beca replies, reaching out to curl her hand over Chloe’s thigh. “I just don’t really want to be around people right now.”

Chloe grins, lifting her head to plant a kiss against Beca’s neck. She loves when Beca adopts her grumpy, antisocial persona. “Speaking of…make sure you take that call from my thesis supervisor today, okay? It’s so hard to just get some time with her because she’s on sabbatical and refuses to use email like a normal person. She won’t mind if you just take some notes down for me.” Beca hums in agreement. “Beca,” Chloe urges, swatting her girlfriend’s stomach. “I’m serious,” she says, laughing when Beca puffs out her cheeks. “C’mere,” she murmurs, leaning up to kiss her once. She lingers, resisting the urge to relax further against Beca’s side and just let the morning fade away.

But - the small mountain of paperwork she has on her desk at work floats into her mind, so she lets her tongue lick into Beca’s mouth just once more before pulling away.

Beca whines in protest when Chloe moves to stand up and she follows, cupping her hands on Chloe’s hips under her cardigan. “I never see you,” she protests. “You could stay,” she suggests, half-serious.

“I could,” Chloe agrees, sliding her hands on Beca’s arm so she can gently pry Beca’s hands off her. “Or I could go and earn some money and, you know, experience, so I can finish this degree and support the both of us. Since you’re such a slacker. Also, whose fault is it that you never see me?” Chloe asks, injecting some levity into her voice.

Beca tries to scowl - she really does - but she can’t help it when it comes to Chloe these days. Living with Chloe, even if it’s just for the spring and summer while Chloe interns in Los Angeles, has been bliss. There have been a few roadblocks here and there, but Beca vows she’ll be better with every passing day.

“Love you!” she calls out to Chloe’s retreating back.

“Love you, too,” is Chloe’s muffled shout from behind the closed front door.

 

* * *

 

The day flies by in a haze. Beca takes at least four Advils throughout the day and shuts herself into her music so she can at least feel somewhat productive.

She’s jolted out of her music-induced reverie when hands gently slide her headphones off her head.

“Did you even eat today?” Chloe’s voice asks, concerned and amused.

Beca spins to face Chloe, standing in front of her and holding a bag of take-out in her hand. She’s about to smile at the gesture when it occurs to her-

“Shit,” she says, before she can stop herself.

The smile slides off Chloe’s face. “You didn’t take the call,” she infers. “Beca! That was really important!” She turns to the machine on Beca’s desk, clicking through the menu. There’s a missed call. 

“I’m sorry!” Beca scrambles up, not bothering to slide her feet into her slippers. She winces when she touches hardwood with her bare feet, but follows after Chloe. “Don’t be mad,” she implores.

“I’m not mad,” Chloe replies, though the way her jaw tightens indicates otherwise.

“Okay, you’re mad,” Beca says, fiddling with the zipper on her sweater. She can see a myriad of emotions in Chloe’s eyes. “Chloe, I’m…I’m really sorry. I know how important this call was to you.” She tries to push past the lump in her throat, a more frequent occurrence ever since she started working with her new manager and even newer publicist. She thought taking time to work from home would help her stress levels and solidfy her relationship with Chloe, but it doesn’t quite seem to be working.

Chloe swallows, nodding. “I…I think if you knew how important it was, you’d have taken the call, Beca. This…this isn’t the first time, okay? You’ve been forgetting dates, skimping on meals, forgetting events that you promised you’d attend with me.” She sighs, blowing a couple strands of hair out of her face. “I mean, you can remember to take your intern out for lunch, but you can’t remember this?”

Beca bristles. “You said you weren’t mad about that.”

Chloe scowls - a rare sight - and it makes Beca backtrack. “I’m not mad,” Chloe hisses. “But it sure says something when you remember to take your beautiful blonde intern out for a lavish lunch, but forget your girlfriend’s important phone call. All you would have had to do was take some notes.”

A brief silence passes over them. 

Chloe seems to expel all her frustration in one breath, leaving her looking resigned and tired instead.

“Chloe,” Beca starts.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” she apologizes in true Chloe fashion, though it only makes Beca feel worse. “I’m going to work on some stuff, okay?”

Beca sighs as well when Chloe turns. “Okay. Same.”

 

* * *

 

Beca puts down her headphones after at least an hour of producing absolutely terrible quality music. She scowls at the folder of keysmashed-named music files and closes her laptop a bit excessively. She tugs her headphones off and rests them on top of her closed laptop, running her hand over the worn fabric along the ear cushions.

When she closes the door, she can see the back of Chloe’s head over the couch. It’s bowed slightly and there are messy strands of hair falling out of Chloe’s bun. It makes her want to both smile and cry at the same time. She makes her way over slowly, eyes tracked on the back of Chloe’s head, then profile as she walks around the couch, then finally the way Chloe’s eyes refuse to lift to look at her when she settles next to her.

“Hey,” she breathes, though it barely makes a sound and sounds more like a gasp. She clears her throat, realizing she hasn’t spoken in at least an hour. Chloe’s hand twitches on her lap, but she makes no other motion. Beca hesitantly reaches for her hand, but she chickens out at the last minute and grabs the headphone that Chloe doesn’t have in her ear. She tentatively lifts it to her own ear and basks in the quiet instrumentals of pop ballads.

Beca bites her lip when she immediately recognizes it as Chloe’s  _Tired_  playlist – the one she plays when she needs an emotional recharge or just quiet time alone. Beca has learned over the years – first as Chloe’s friend, then now as her girlfriend (it still sends a thrill through her) – that Chloe’s need for space is short. She prefers company, contact, and being able to talk about things, but often out of respect for Beca’s need for quiet, she waits patiently for Beca to speak first.

Chloe shifts then, sliding her hand across the small distance on the couch between them to Beca’s thigh. The small touch releases the tension and Beca literally feels a breath drain from her. She leans unapologetically into Chloe, pressing a kiss into her shoulder. 

“I don’t want to fight,” Beca says softly. It’s quiet enough that it almost gets lost in the music that’s flowing through Chloe’s earphones. She removes them – one from her ear, one from Beca’s – and turns to look at Beca, equally apologetic.

“I don’t want to fight either,” Chloe murmurs, tilting her head so she’s pressing a kiss into soft brown hair. Beca makes a noise of contentment and slides her hand across Chloe’s waist, snuggling further into her side.

“I’m grateful you’re here with me,” Beca says after a brief pause. And she is. She’s grateful every time Chloe makes time to fly to Los Angeles to see her. She’s grateful that Chloe wants to work on their relationship as much as she does, even though it scares her beyond belief when she thinks about asking Chloe to move in permanently after she’s done with school. She’s so grateful to just  _have_ Chloe; that Chloe’s the most supportive person in her life. “And I’m sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t think your work was important.”

“You didn’t, not really,” Chloe whispers, tapping her fingers on Beca’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t have snapped. It really wasn’t that big of a deal and now how stressed you’ve been, recently. I should have set up something else.” It’s so sincere and honest and understanding. Beca chokes on a whimper and wipes hastily at her eyes before she turns slightly in Chloe’s arms. Chloe’s eyes are pretty much at their brightest blue, though the vibrancy is dampened by the threatening tears and residual hurt shining in them. Beca’s own heart seems to constrict at the expression and she leans up to kiss Chloe once, twice-

“Wait,” Chloe murmurs, gently pushing her phone from her lap so it clatters on the coffee table. “I love you,” Chloe says softly. “I’m not going anywhere, you know?”

“Yeah?” Beca voices, allowing Chloe to tug her back playfully so she’s pressed comfortably against Chloe’s front. “Well, same,” she says nonchalantly.

Chloe pinches her side.

Beca laughs, letting the relief and security wash over her. “I love you,” she promises in return. “I want you. You should know,” she says haughtily, “that I’m small but scrappy. I’ll fight to keep you,” she declares, unsure where all these words are coming from. “This is you and me,” she says, tilting her head back to look at Chloe who is casually running her fingers through strands of Beca’s hair comfortingly. “I’m going to fight for you with the same amount of inappropriate lack of personal space you used when you made me sing that damn duet.” Chloe’s laughter reverberates through her back.

Chloe’s phone and playlist lay temporarily forgotten, though Beca’s pleased that she’s able to be as equally effective as a playlist that she hopes Chloe will never use again. Chloe hooks her chin over Beca’s shoulder and presses light, slow kisses against her neck, hands flexing over the fabric of Beca’s shirt covering her stomach.

An idea springs to her mind, fighting its way through the slow, gentle haze of desire.

Before she can get too swept up, Beca forces her eyes open and leans forward and away from Chloe’s warmth.

She opens Chloe’s laptop and searches up something, hoping that the sheer sappiness of this gesture doesn’t kill her.

“What are you doing?” Chloe murmurs, trying to look over her shoulder, sounding slightly disappointed.

“Wait.”

“Campfire and ocean waves white noise?” Chloe asks, reading off the screen, even as Beca’s flush rises high on her cheeks. She quickly full-screens the video.

“I’m trying to woo you,” Beca says petulantly. She twists, gently pushing Chloe back on the couch so she’s lying prone. Chloe’s amused expression doesn’t quite leave, though her eyes darken a tad and her hands come to rest on Beca’s hips. “It’s raining outside,” she says unnecessarily.

Chloe hums, lifting a hand to tangle into Beca’s hair. “I noticed.”

“Shh,” Beca says, beginning humming the chorus of the song she caught a glimpse of on Chloe’s phone. Some Ed Sheeran song from years ago.

Chloe’s eyes fall shut, enjoying the movement of Beca’s hands under her shirt and the occasional kiss against her neck and jaw between humming.

“So in love,” Beca half-whispers, half-sings. The effect, combined with the (fake) beach ambience makes the heat in Chloe’s body spike immediately.

And with that, they’re kissing for all they’re worth again, forgetting the events of the day, at least for the moment. It’s no matter; what matters is that they come out of every hiccup stronger than they were before. Chloe effectively stops Beca’s (admittedly lovely) singing with a more forceful kiss, cupping her hand around the back of her neck.

As Chloe’s laptop screen flickers into sleep mode, neither woman notices through tender touches and passionate kisses. With every pass of a sure hand over soft skin, Chloe wonders how she got so lucky and Beca privately tries to think of more ways to make it up to Chloe – to make it up to the woman who consistently makes her house feel like a home.


	14. (T) just this once (but i’ve relived it a thousand times, like a disaster in my mind’s eye)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: BECHLOE DRUNKEN CONFESSIONS AND THEN THE SLIGHT REGRET THE NEXT MORNING

**word count** : 1,763

**summary** : They kissed once (and Chloe lived to tell the tale). Angst-o-meter: low. Chloe-centric. 

notes: Pre-PP2 with  _slight_  mention of PP3. Like, super slight. I don’t even know why I included it.

 

* * *

 

It happens once, somewhere between Beca’s third and fourth years at Barden.

It happens once, somewhere between Chloe realizing that she fell for Beca unexpectedly hard and Beca choosing Jesse despite never having known there was a choice.

 

* * *

 

Chloe drinks.

She can admit that much. She never drinks so much that she gets blackout drunk, but it’s usually enough for her to stumble at least twice and enough to make her eyes cross as she looks down at the top of Beca’s head.

So, it happens once, after Chloe’s maybe had a little bit too much to drink and she’s making sure that all her children (read: Bellas) are doing okay.

And if Chloe thinks about this story down the line, as she drinks the beer Chicago offers her, she’ll say that she kissed Beca  _once_ and that was that.

Instead, it kind of happens like this:

Somewhere between Beca’s third and fourth year at Barden, they’re celebrating their third ICCA win at a party hosted in the Bellas backyard. The antithesis to the Treblemakers’ hood night party at the beginning of the year.

Chloe is doing her routine count of all the Bellas and making sure nobody needs to be locked inside a room and tucked into a burrito blanket when she stumbles across Beca in the bathroom.

(Of course, since it happens once, it only works that it would happen in the bathroom, while Beca sits at the edge of the tub…with the shower running? Chloe thinks about ignoring that, but she can never ignore anything that involves Beca. She remembers everything about all her encounters with Beca with startling detail, right down to mismatched socks, flushed cheeks, and shy smiles. It’s all she has.)

“Are you okay?” is Chloe’s first question because Beca’s well-being is always at the top of her list. “Do you need me to get somebody?” Chloe continues because Beca tends to enjoy talking to Fat Amy when she’s a little buzzed. “Jesse?” she tacks on, thirdly, with hesitance, because sometimes Jesse and Beca are so hot and cold that she never knows where Jesse stands.

(It’s kind of painful because at least Jesse gets to stand  _somewhere_ and God, her train of thought always goes  _there_. She can hear Aubrey’s voice, disappointed and knowing, telling her that she should have seen this coming.)

“I’m fine,” Beca responds calmly. “I’m just enjoying the steam,” she says, gesturing at the running shower.

And that’s…fairly obvious, Chloe supposes. It’s so familiar, the way Beca leans against the wall, one leg bent, the other leg outstretched. Beca’s casual confidence comes in waves about forty percent of the time, while the other sixty, Beca behaves like an awkward human being who was only recently taught how to care about other people. It’s endearing and Chloe eats it up.

“Mind if I join you?”

Beca smiles, a bit toothily. “Did your rounds?”

“Yes. Everybody’s paired off. Except you and me,” Chloe adds, feeling bold. She adds a wink for good measure before sliding down to lean against the same wall. The warmth in the bathroom is making her simultaneously tired and restless. “Why are you really in here?”

“I…I don’t know,” Beca says softly, after a pause. “Sometimes I just like to be alone. To think.”

“Oh,” Chloe says, embarrassed. “Should I go?” She takes Beca’s need to be alone from time to time in stride because it happens often enough. She loves the way Beca loses herself in music – in the way Beca’s eyes alight with creativity and the embers of new songs, mash-ups, and choreography suggestions. She has been privileged enough to see that firsthand and it only makes her love and adore Beca more.

She expects Beca to nod or lie to appease her, both of which would prompt Chloe to get up anyway and leave Beca to her devices.

Beca does neither.

Instead, Beca taps her fingers on her forearms and tilts her head towards Chloe contemplatively with an almost-foreign expression on her face. Her eyes are alight with a tenderness that Chloe doesn’t quite understand herself, but the familiarity is there because Chloe knows the sensation acutely – the sensation of looking at somebody as if they’re being  _really_ seen for the first time.

Beca is all soft-eyes and hesitance, an uncharacteristic shyness in her eyes that makes Chloe’s heart want to shatter and her lungs – God, her lungs want to suck in enough air to break her ribs.

Chloe’s not exactly sure what propels her to  _say_ it, but she does and she’ll reflect on it later, but -

“You’re in love with me.”

(In saying it aloud, something in Chloe actually breaks - like the dam that finally cries out in relief because it no longer has to contain the ever-ebbing flow of cursed feelings that move through her with the force of a thousand waves.)

Beca’s eyes don’t quite widen comically and she doesn’t gasp indignantly. Instead, she just looks away, like she’s guilty. Chloe supposes she is, in some ways, still committed to Jesse on some level even if they’re temporarily on a break or something. Chloe loses track of their relationship.

“Oh,” Chloe says, finally feeling slightly lightheaded for the first time that night.

Below them, the sounds of the party reverberate at their feet. Chloe rests her hand on the bathroom tile, letting the gentle vibrations add some feeling to her fingers.

Chloe isn’t sure who moves first. She wants to believe with every fibre of her being that it’s Beca, but she thinks that asking Beca about this, even years later, would result in something that Chloe doesn’t want to deal with.

Maybe it has to do with the fact that Beca’s a little intoxicated as well. Maybe it’s Beca’s forty percent confidence at full force. It - the inevitable Kiss - happens in bursts of slow motion for Chloe, in rapturous waves, because of how badly she’s wanted this since the beginning of time (read: since the moment she saw how Beca threw herself into making The Bellas the best they could be).

Alternatively, Chloe thinks it was her, and it only eats at her by way of guilt. Maybe it had been Chloe to initiate the kiss, spurred on by the haze in her mind and the haze caused by the shower steam, both adding to her lightheadedness pleasurably. 

Regardless, it happens and ends. The moments between - the press of Beca’s lips against hers and the softness of Beca’s kiss - are what Chloe cherishes and recalls with startling clarity. The sensation of being truly alone in the universe has never occurred to Chloe before, but she feels it then when Beca’s lips press to hers, with a gentle hand curving over her knee. She feels that acute sensation, tugging at the base of her spine, like she’s alone - except she’s with the only person that she wants to have by her side, whether if it’s the world that’s ending or an isolated moment away from chaos.

Her eyes fall shut somewhere along the line, but she can see the moment in her mind’s eye.

They are the only two people in the universe that matter.

It’s not the most romantic kiss, since Chloe can taste the vestiges of alcohol from both of them (tequila and lime for Beca, vodka and coke for Chloe).

It is, however, a kiss that says more than either Chloe or Beca are willing to at the moment - and, after reflection, perhaps  _ever_.

Chloe lets her hand brush over Beca’s hand - the one resting on her knee, and rubs at the soft skin of Beca’s wrist. She tilts her head, letting the kiss slow down momentarily.

When Beca’s lips brush against hers as she pulls back, it’s both revelatory and heartbreaking.

God, it feels like a revelation.

Though, Chloe thinks, as she leans back and away, tilting her head back against the bathroom wall, it can’t be a revelation if it starts and ends with that kiss. It’s more that she’s been defeated by the breaking of her own floodgates and the realization that this was just another stolen moment in a series of stolen moments she was always destined to have.

Beca’s hand had followed the motion of her head, and she finally allows her hand to drop from where her fingers had been stroking at Chloe’s jaw. Though Beca’s eyes have always held the world for Chloe, all she sees now is an infinity that she doesn’t know whether she can truly fit in. Her inner monologue rambles on drunkenly and she can only shut her eyes, trying to block out the rushing in her ears.

(When dams break, it’s considered a disaster, right?)

Chloe just tangles her fingers with Beca’s and loses herself in the way this moment makes her feel endless.

 

* * *

 

They don’t talk about it because it only happens once and that’s that.

“Chloe, please,” Beca begs, turning her pleading gaze back to Chloe. “I can’t–please.”

It’s in her nature to resist, so she does. “Bec…”

“Please,” Beca says softly. “Don’t. Not now.”

In her mind’s eye, she plays out a couple scenarios. One of them, she tells Beca that she can’t act like the kiss doesn’t change anything, out of sheer desperation because it feels like her heart is about to pound right of her chest and leap out the window.

In that first scenario, she’s caged and frantic. She’ll do anything to get Beca to reconsider.

In reality, she’s caged and submissive. She’ll do anything to keep Beca in her life.

Both scenarios result in the fact that she lets Beca walk away because it was never written in the books for them to work out. Not at the time, anyway.

She breathes deeply as Beca gets up to turn off the shower. “Okay,” she says quietly.

 

* * *

 

(When dams break, there’s a state of emergency. There are rescue missions. Chloe has never felt more alone.)

“I’ll see you around,” Beca murmurs, just before she leaves. It’s familiar and foreign. 

It happens once.

It’s just a kiss. It doesn’t mean anything.

Somewhere between Chloe’s realization that she’s doomed to perhaps love Beca forever and her realization that Beca’s just never quite been working with the same timeline as her, Chloe and Beca kiss.

They kiss once and that’s that.

 

* * *

 

(The next morning, Chloe blearily awakens in her own bed, alone. She thinks about how she’d give anything to relive that one kiss and say something,  _anything_ to make Beca stay.

It tastes like regret.)


	15. (G) upholding tradition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I was going to choose another but, 23 just cause I want to see your take on bechloe as parents

Notes: I love Bechloe as parents! If you want, we can chat later about all my headcanons as part of my ‘she is the flint’ universe because I have a spreadsheet of their lives up until like 2030 and it includes them being parents.

That being said, this fic is part of the  _she is the flint_  universe and i 100% repurposed a one-shot I had already been working on for this prompt lmao.

 **word count:** 2,001

 **summary:** Some things never change.

 

* * *

 

Beca loves her job about ninety-nine per cent of the time. She loves the fast-paced meetings, the contracts, the creative outlet, and of course, all the incredible people she gets to meet on a daily basis. She can’t particularly imagine herself tiring of it anytime soon, though she tired of touring and live performances pretty quickly.

Chloe tells her it’s temporary.

Some days, she gets to spend time alone with her music and computer. Some days, she has to tell other people what she wants.

But there are days that are just -

“I don’t know, Beca - I just don’t feel like this is the right sound for my album.”

The emphasis and snide tone aren’t lost on Beca and she rubs her temples slowly before spinning in her chair to face her latest project.

Beca thinks she sees a lot of her younger self in Sony’s latest acquisition. Talent comes in spades these days and she’s honoured to be tasked with the the responsibility of producing this album by herself. She remembers how it felt when she thought her own creativity was being stifled, but hindsight dictates that she would never have been one quarter as wildly successful if she didn’t learn to lean on her peers, friends, and family for support when she needed it.

And while Beca completely loves and adores her job to the ends of the earth; while Beca adores being a celebrity (for the most part) and all its perks, she hates that there are moments that test her patience. She fiddles with her phone - subtly checking the time - before looking up and smiling as pleasantly as she can.

“I really think that this makes your album more cohesive. A more well-rounded sound. I promise it still sounds good,” she says, adopting the pleasant tone of voice she reserves for only about three people in her life. She barely restrains from tossing out the reminder that she has awards to back her statements up because she immediately sees Chloe’s good-natured eyeroll in her mind. She files this moment away to report back to her wife - her good behaviour is still shocking to Chloe on most days.

She knows she’ll need a good anecdote anyway because she’s going to be home late. Again.

“Let’s try that again,” she says, only barely managing to keep exasperation out of her tone.

 

* * *

 

When Beca makes her way out of the building, it’s just starting to get dark outside. She sighs, pulling out her phone to check her messages.

 **Chlo (4:40pm):**   _Will you be home for dinner? xx_

 **Chlo (6:43pm):**   _Kids were restless waiting, so we went with Bree and Kevin to the diner._

**Chlo (6:44pm):** _Don’t worry, I got you your favourite grilled salmon. Love you!_

Beca can’t stop the smile.

**Beca (6:59pm):** _On my way home now! have I told you how much I love you today? xo_

When Beca makes it to her car, she all but cries in relief when she sinks into the soft leather seat. She lets her eyes rest for a moment in preparation for the horrendous Los Angeles traffic. She hates the city sometimes. And driving.

Her phone buzzes again.

 **Chlo (7:02pm):**   _Well, hurry, you dork!_

**Chlo (7:02pm):** _I miss you ;)_

It’s lighthearted, but she thinks of how much she misses Chloe when she’s even apart from her for too long – it’s why she declines a lot of the jobs that require her to travel to Tennesse or New York for extended periods.

**Beca (7:03pm):** _xx_

 

* * *

##  _5 months ago_

“We miss you!” Chloe calls over the sound of their children - their  _babies_ , Beca thinks offhandedly - fighting with each other over the last cookie. “Love you, Bec.”

The video call ends.

Beca groans, falling gracelessly into bed. She huffs when the knot in her neck only gets worse and opts for staring up listlessly at the beige ceiling.

The chaos, the messiness, the complete domestic bliss - they’re all things that Beca doesn’t quite recall asking for when she was eighteen years old, about to start the first day of the rest of her life.

Then again, she didn’t ask for Chloe Beale all those years ago, but here they are, fifteen years later. The best things in her life kind of happened by chance.

(And admittedly, a lot of work and some heartbreak.)

Beca hates travelling for work. It’s, truth be told, rare unless she’s touring, but she does have to make the occasional trip out to New York or Tennessee for meetings with studio execs and stuffy suits. She loves the creativity that comes with her job and the endless droves of fascinating people she gets to meet.

But she’d honestly rather be at home with the only people she’s ever needed.

Sitting up, she tugs her laptop towards her and lets her fingers fly, firing off a couple quick emails to Theo and Frankie. She glances at the time, noting that it’s still early enough in the day.

Last minute, expensive flight? Check.

She’s missing out on too much.

 

* * *

##  _Present_

When Beca finally makes it home, she is exhausted and fumbles with her keys more than once. The peaceful quiet of her neighborhood is broken the moment her door opens and light floods out.

Her home is warm and bright and she welcomes the sound of giggling somewhere in the distance and Steve rushing down the hallway to crash into her legs excitedly. She bends to briefly bury her face into soft golden fur and lets him get a lick or two in.

“Alright dude,” she says, pushing him away when he goes for her mouth. “Calm down.” She looks up suspiciously when no big or tiny voices greet her. “Chlo?” she calls. She eyes the way Chloe’s work bag and jacket are slung over the chair by the door haphazardly.

“Living room!”

Beca makes her way down the hall, already looking forward to seeing her family. It’s already the highlight of her day - as it is pretty much every day, though some days she just wants to crawl up beside Chloe and snuggle their kids all day.

“Mommy’s home!” Chloe declares belatedly from her spot in the middle of the living room. She is surrounded by-

“Why are there…cups everywhere?” Beca asks, taking in the sight of the various plastic and disposable cups on their living room floor. She brightens when their youngest catches her eye. She grins and picks up Emma who had been chewing aggressively on a cup. “Hello darling,” she coos, pressing a kiss to Emma’s soft, rosy cheek. “Why are you playing with cups?” she asks conversationally, brushing her fingers through soft brown curls. Emma babbles at her, dropping the cup (to Steve’s delight) in favour of tugging Beca’s scarf.

“J and I were working on a surprise for you,” Chloe says. She hoists James into her lap and blows a raspberry into his cheek. He laughs and puts two small, chubby hands on Chloe’s cheeks to push her away.

“Su-supwise!” He echoes, pointing at Beca. “Mommy sit!”

“Okay, Jimbo. Let’s see it,” Beca says, settling in front of them. She figures James has figured out a more creative way to stack things and knock them down. It delights him to no end, as is the case for most four year old boys. “Let’s see what your brother and your mama have prepared for us today,” she says to Emma who simply puts her fingers in her mouth in agreement. Steve, their adorable, but clumsy and hectic golden retriever, excitedly runs in circles around them all while James scrambles out of Chloe’s lap to set his performance up.

“Okay,” Chloe says softly to their son. “Slowly, remember?”

He nods, brow furrowed in concentration as he sets the cup down. The huge breath he takes then is the most adorable thing Beca has ever seen. He puffs his cheeks out and holds his breath for about two seconds.

Then he begins and Beca’s heart practically explodes.

It’s a slightly modified version of her audition for the Bellas from all those years ago - the one that changed her life completely. Her eyes well up, beyond her control, and she hastily blinks them away so she can focus. She glares - without any malice at all - at Chloe because she knows this is  _her_  doing.

James taps out the rhythms nearly perfectly, though he seems to be struggling with the lyrics. He pouts, eyes widening as he turns to Chloe nervously. “Mama,” he whispers loudly. “The - the song.”

Chloe kisses his cheek and moves closer so she can see over his shoulder. “Why don’t you start again, baby?” She winks up at Beca, smiling knowingly when Beca can only manage a shaky smile.

He nods his agreement. “Help,” he requests shyly. Chloe tilts her head, smiling as she reaches up to brush her fingers through his hair.

Beca manages to shake her daze away. “Wait!” She exclaims, mindful of the baby in her arms. “Can I - can I film this?” She scrambles to her feet, looking for her bag. Emma pouts at the motion and tugs a little at Beca’s hair.

“Let me hold her,” Chloe says, reaching out for their daughter. She rests Emma so that her feet are propped on her thighs. “Hi Emmie!” she greets, when Emma turns her excitement towards Chloe and claps her hands excitedly on Chloe’s cheeks.

Beca digs her phone out from the depths of her bag, sliding the camera app open. “Okay, ready. Astound me, wonderful family.”

James begins again, mouth moving as he silently counts out numbers. He moves his small cup with certainty and Beca feels indescribable pride rush through her.

Chloe starts singing and though her focus is on their son, her gaze flits up occasionally to meet Beca’s, eyes bright with love and warmth. Beca notes that she changes “whiskey” to “soda” which only makes her fall in love just a little bit more. Even Emma is submissive and quiet for once since she’s gotten closer and closer to her terrible twos, just listening to the beautiful, beautiful music. Beca wills herself not to cry and focuses on just holding her phone steady even as James confidently joins in for the last line of the song, executing a near perfect finish.

He throws his hands up gleefully and collapses into giggles when Chloe playfully tackles him into a hug while mindfully making sure she’s cradling Emma’s head protectively. Steve barks and leaps around, using his paws to bat at Chloe’s shoulders.

Stuffing her phone in her pocket, Beca kneels down by her family, feeling that same rush she felt when she first laid eyes on their first baby cradled in Chloe’s arms. 

This parenting thing? Two kids later? Beca thinks they’ve done a pretty good job.

She smiles at Chloe, holding her hands out to help her up to her feet.

“You taught him the song,” Beca says, sliding her arms around Chloe’s waist. Chloe, who looks exhausted, tired, but so, so happy that it makes Beca swell with love and adoration. She can’t help it then - her own exhaustion seeps through her and she manages one, tired kiss against her wife’s mouth.

“Are you hungry?”

And though her stomach complains loudly, she wants to just have this moment for a little while longer. She shakes her head, leaning up to capture Chloe’s lips in another kiss, basking in the feeling of having the love of her life pressed against her while their children torture their dog. Chloe’s fingers pass through her hair soothingly and she holds her - just a second longer.

“Yeah,” Beca finally responds when she pulls back.

Chloe’s smile is gentle, reaching her eyes. Beca reaches up to trace the faint lines on her wife’s face, just once, before she turns to the rest of her family.

It’s exhausting, but it’s home and Beca wouldn’t have it any other way.


	16. (T) sealed with a kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon asked: can you write number 40 or 52 please ?? thanks ! (40. Hiding/hoping not to be caught kiss + 52. Accidentally Witnessed kiss)

 

**word count** : 1,198

**summary:** Famous!Bechloe AU: Beca and Chloe’s relationship is...a secret. Kind of. Anyway, now they’re going on tour together.

 

* * *

 

It’s kind of their little secret. 

Kind of...because well -

It’s born out of quite a number of personal reasons and business decisions, but ultimately, Beca and Chloe prefer that their world stays private...well as private as it can, without the interference of the outside world.

Beca enjoys reading the theories.

Chloe loves the way Beca cackles at the more outlandish ones.

Both of them hate the fake dates and gossip magazines, but they play a little game of who gets a higher score in terms of dating. It’s kind of fun and until it stops being fun and they grow weary of hiding out in the open, this is how it is. 

Despite it all, their PDA is personal and completely off limits. It’s why Chloe has to force herself to wait in Beca’s dressing room (when it’s available) whenever Beca presents or performs at an award show, or when Beca receives an award. She can’t celebrate properly until -

“Thank God,” Chloe mumbles, throwing her arms around Beca’s neck and pulling her in for a bruising kiss. Beca’s award is tossed haphazardly onto the closet couch before sure hands are holding her waist and steering her towards the nearest wall.

“We have about ten seconds before the runner...comes by again to...for the...engrave the award...thing,” Beca finishes once Chloe’s lips descend onto her jaw, then her neck.

“Figure something out,” Chloe says lightly, as if her hands aren’t wandering up Beca’s back and fingering the zipper she finds. She tilts Beca’s head back towards hers and slides her lips leisurely against Beca’s, relishing the feeling of how soft Beca’s lips feel against hers. It’s slow, languid, and everything Chloe’s been missing since she got back from New York and only managed to make it to the show with a few minutes to spare.

Beca’s hand comes up to cup Chloe’s neck, sliding into soft hair. She holds Chloe against her, just for a few seconds because sometimes it does feel like these moments are all they have these days, living so far apart, on opposite coasts.

And like that, their bubble is broken by sharp raps on the door. Chloe pushes off the wall and thumbs the corner of Beca’s mouth, smiling upon seeing the smudge of lipstick.

“I’ll wait here,” she murmurs, pecking Beca on the nose.

So their story is that...there really isn’t a story behind this particular choice. They don’t feel particularly compelled to publicly address their relationship.

 

* * *

 

That had been a year ago.

Their relationship - and lack thereof - according to Aubrey, is one of the worst kept secrets in Hollywood. Fans eat it up, talk shows use it to poke fun at them, and tabloids use it as fodder to either tear them down or bring them up.

In any case, they’re still sort of careful about how they maintain their public personas. Beca thinks that it’s been about two and a half years of pure bliss after she pulled her head out of her ass and figured out how to tell Chloe how much she meant to her.

They’re best friends, as far as anybody else is concerned. People that know are respectful and understanding. People that don’t know are equally respectful and understanding most of the time.

Now, they’re prepping for a talkshow interview together - the first one they’ve ever had.

Prepping is a loose term for what they’re actually doing while their managers are otherwise occupied.

Chloe had been playfully tying Beca’s hair into elaborate braids while Beca read out fake interview questions, both trying to trip the other up. Tiring of her task quickly, Chloe opts instead to engage in a more fun activity: sitting on Beca’s lap instead and kissing her.

"They’re going to be back soon,” Beca mumbles, though her hands rest loosely on Chloe’s hips. “Like...really soon, dude.” She doesn’t make any other indication that they should stop and chases after Chloe’s mouth when she sighs and pulls away.

“You’re right,” Chloe murmurs, though she can’t resist one last brush against Beca’s mouth.

Unbeknownst to them, there had been a few light taps at the door, signalling the return of Aubrey, Amy, and Seth whereby one out of that party of three was quite surprised to see Chloe Beale affectionately running a hand through Beca Mitchell’s hair and getting off her lap.

Seth glances around, trying to make eye contact with both Aubrey and Amy, neither of whom seem particularly concerned that their clients were getting pretty cozy.

He clears his throat, making his way towards the two women, now preoccupied with touching up their make-up calmly.

“I just had a quick run through with questions I’m going to ask the two of you,” Seth says, handing them a couple flashcards. Your managers okay-ed them.”

Chloe takes the cards and sifts through them, nodding at each question while Beca simply takes the cards and lets her hand hang loosely by her side. She smiles at Seth. “Are these finalized questions? Ask Chloe about Broadway and all the drama that those thespians engage in. She was always meant to be a recording artist,” Beca says, sighing dramatically.

Chloe rolls her eyes, but laughs anyway. "Beca is such a liar. She knows I loved Broadway, but I practically grew up on that stage and I wanted to reach a wider audience."

Beca stifles the playful grin that threatens to overtake her face. "Yes, she realized not everybody could afford those crazy prices,” Beca tells Seth helpfully. “We’re talking  _Hamilton_ levels, here.”

Seth’s eyes flit between them. "You two know each other well?” he asks, as if he hadn’t just caught them.

Beca glances over her shoulder where Aubrey and Amy are fiddling with their devices. "Off the record, right? Since the show hasn’t started and all." Beca asks unnecessarily.

Seth leans forward, almost eagerly. He chances a glance at Chloe, typically the one to break a serious moment. Instead, she looks at her feet, as if shy, suddenly. "Of course," he promises.

"We're friends with benefits. Have been for a while. I…won’t say how long, but you could probably venture a guess."

"Seriously?" Seth is rendered speechless and mildly uncomfortable. “What - I had no…"

Chloe punches Beca in the shoulder. “Holy shit,” she exclaims. “Beca loves torturing people because she is a  _child_. I’m so sorry she said that,” Chloe says sincerely, eyes wide as they turn to Seth. Beca looks like she’s trying very hard not to burst into laughter.

"Oh. Okay. So you’re just friends.”

There’s a moment of silence.

"Okay, no," Chloe says, drawing out the syllable. "We're dating!"

Beca laughs at that, full-bodied and exuberant. It’s quite possibly a side Seth can’t recall seeing…ever, ever since these two women entered the harsh spotlight of the entertainment industry.

Seth never does get to ask them whether it’s the truth, but he figures since every interviewer and every magazine speculates about their relationship, he can join in on the ribbing.

(In fact, Beca’s manager, Amy had encouraged it. Chloe’s manager, Aubrey had merely huffed and gestured with a wave of her hand as if to proceed.)

They’re just best friends, after all.


	17. (T) what comes naturally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 51\. Public Kiss

**Summary:**  Beca and Chloe’s relationship is new, exciting, and entirely their own. Fluff.

 **Word count:**  1532

 

* * *

 

Beca attempts to pat down her hair, scowling at her slightly frazzled reflection. Work had been, to say the least,  _hell_. She had fought tooth and nail to get the Friday afternoon off because Aubrey and Chloe were slated to visit Los Angeles for the weekend and upcoming week. Theo had approved it because she was already ahead in production, but her other manager - a heavy-handed publicist - had been particularly uptight about it all, citing that Beca needed to still keep up appearances.

Beca had pointed out that nobody even knew who she was yet and she hardly had paparazzi following her around. Her manager’s eyes had lit up at that and Beca barely managed to rush out of the room before she had to hear what crazy plan was up her sleeve.

Now, Beca sits in a taxi, trying to remember if she saved the last file she had been working on. That particular melody line came to her in a stroke of inspiration, though she had been working on it the previous night, fairly late while on a video call with Chloe. She remembers watching as Chloe slowly fell asleep and then she had spent an unnecessarily long time watching Chloe just sleep in front of her before she too had opted for some shut-eye.

Having Chloe near, yet so far has been a struggle and a blessing. She benefits from being in the same timezone, yet she misses Chloe with every fiber of her being whenever they’re apart.

She wishes she were able to spend the week with Chloe and Chloe  _alone_ , but she also is willing to admit that she has been missing Aubrey’s particular brand of witty banter.

She did also suggest that Chloe arrive on the Friday as opposed to the Saturday so they could have at least one night together before they had to keep up the appearance of  _not_  being together in front of Aubrey.

That particular thought causes a frown to creep upon Beca’s forehead - it’s not that she  _wants_  to hide their relationship from anybody, it’s that the budding newness of it all terrifies her a little bit and perhaps Chloe as well if her immediate agreement was any indication. Then again, that had been weeks ago.

Now, it’s a bubble that Beca doesn’t necessarily want to pop right away - one that she cherishes.

Especially when she’s here  _now_  - cuddling into Chloe’s side for warmth despite the fact that there’s a perfectly good comforter folded at their feet. Chloe’s hand traces patterns into her shoulder; Chloe’s hand plays with strands of her hair. It’s the most relaxed Beca has felt in what feels like  _forever_ , but in reality, has been only a couple of weeks.

“Does Aubrey  _have_  to come with us tomorrow?”

Chloe’s laugh makes Beca’s head wobble. “Bec…yes. You promised. Besides…maybe we could tell her?”

Beca’s tired so she doesn’t understand right away. “Tell her what?” she mumbles tiredly, even if her hand slips under the hem of Chloe’s t-shirt to trace figures out on soft skin.

Chloe shivers, but she lets Beca continue her ministrations. “You know. That we’re…trying this out,” Chloe says tentatively. Hesitantly.

Beca leans up, suddenly more awake. It’s not the ‘telling Aubrey’ part that surprises her, just that, she’s not really… “I’m not trying this out anymore. Are you?”

Chloe’s smile is soft and she leans up too, reaching up to cup Beca’s cheek. “No,” she says quietly. “I don’t know if I ever was. I just wasn’t sure.” Her smile only widens. “Yeah?” she questions, the unspoken inquiry lingering in the air.

Beca shakes her head, leaning back down and hovering over Chloe, taking in the love she’s come to recognize in Chloe’s eyes - only a reflection of her own. “Dork,” she mumbles, before kissing her soundly.

 

* * *

 

When Beca wakes up, she’s kind of tired.

She mentioned to Chloe that she needed to drop some files off at the studio before lunch. When she wakes up, Chloe is still sound asleep and hogging about seventy-five percent of the blankets.

One shower later, Beca’s still tired, but she feels refreshed.

She barely manages to slip on her shoes and after three attempts, she realizes she was trying to fit her left shoe on her right foot. She’s grumbling to herself and huffing when Chloe’s arms drape around her shoulders. Chloe presses a lazy kiss against the side of her neck. “Have a good day at work, baby,” she mumbles with a teasing lilt to her voice. 

Beca feels marginally more awake, but resists the urge to crawl back into bed and waste the day away.

“I have to go,” she whines. Chloe laughs and swats her bottom before making her way into the kitchen. “I’ll meet you at WINSOME.”

Chloe’s voice echoes back over the sound of boiling water. “At 11:30, Bec! Please don’t be too late or Aubrey will eat you alive.”

Beca doesn’t doubt that.

 

* * *

 

Beca isn’t thinking it through.

It kind of just happens naturally because she’s tired, it’s still technically a Saturday morning, and she hates her manager with undiluted passion.

What happens is this:

She spots Chloe and Aubrey sitting at a table nestled against the window. Rather, she spots Chloe - and only Chloe - and it immediately makes the tension drain from her body.

“Hey,” she mumbles, sliding into the seat next to Chloe. Chloe turns to face her with a smile and greeting on her lips, but it dies because Beca’s cupping her cheek and kissing her with all the passion she can muster. Chloe responds instinctively, her hand coming up to caress Beca’s hand, leaning further into the kiss and Beca’s touch.

Beca sighs gently, easing out of the kiss, nipping once at Chloe’s bottom lip for good measure, smiling at the way it makes Chloe tighten her hand instinctively over her fingers. 

And, well, Beca might have gotten a little carried away. She thumbs at the smudge of lipstick on Chloe’s mouth, smiling in apology.

“Hello,” Chloe says, sounding a little breathless.

There’s a strange choking sound from the other side of the table. It jolts Beca to reality so harshly that she physically jolts in her seat.

Aubrey is holding a flute of mimosa and looking like she’s just seen an especially gruesome scene in a horror movie.

“What the hell?” she manages to say with an amusing high-pitched voice.

Beca would laugh if her brain didn’t immediately short-circuit. It’s the only explanation, actually, for what she does next, which is to get up and attempt to…well, she’s not quite sure what her body is doing because it’s like she’s functioning on auto-pilot and her brain rationalizes this as the only way to keep hers and Chloe’s cover. Self-preservation and all that. 

 _Yes, kissing Aubrey is the only solution_ , she panic-rationalizes. Her lips hit Aubrey’s cheek messily.

“What are you doing?” Aubrey demands at the same time that Chloe is choking back laughter and tugging at Beca’s sleeve, imploring her, “please sit down, Bec.”

“I should throw this on you,” Aubrey says, swirling the contents of her glass. Her tone is threatening, but there’s curiosity and concern and maybe even happiness in her eyes. 

There’s an awkward moment where Beca stares blankly at her plate, Chloe contains her laughter long enough to order Beca a mimosa, and Aubrey looks supremely unhappy that Beca just attempted to kiss her.

“Two questions. First, how long?” she asks. “And second, are you two happy?”

Beca might still be a little shell-shocked, so she lets Chloe take her hand, intertwine their fingers, and relay their story to Aubrey.

“Not quite how I wanted to tell you,” Chloe says lightly. She gently squeezes Beca’s hand. “But we kind of took this up a few months ago and I think we’re going try to make this work for the long run.” Chloe squeezes Beca’s hand again to get her attention. “As for being happy, well, I’d say so, wouldn’t you, Beca?”

It’s probably the most sure that Beca has been in the past forty-eight hours. She knows then that it doesn’t matter that she messed up her and Chloe’s plan to tell Aubrey together; it doesn’t matter that Chloe’s going to be flying back north on Sunday night; it doesn’t matter that she has a manager who breathes fire down her neck. She has Chloe and it’s probably the one person she needs to keep her grounded and she doesn’t care who knows. 

She nods, meets Chloe’s gaze, then Aubrey’s with sureness and confidence. “Yeah,” she whispers. “Very happy.”

The silence this time isn’t awkward or stilted. Aubrey appraises her, but with kindness in her eyes. She heaves a sigh, looking relieved above all.

“Then I think we can drink to that,” Aubrey says just as the waiter places a mimosa in front of Beca. “And don’t think that I’m going to forget that you just tried to plant one on me, Mitchell.”

Chloe laughs again. “I don’t think any of us are going to forget that anytime soon.”


	18. (T) why does tragedy exist? (because you are full of rage)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 34\. Returned from the dead kiss

**summary** : how do you deal with death? well maybe, you don’t have to deal with it at all.

 **Inspiration from** _ **Pushing Daisies**  _\- loosely, so there’s definitely some canon divergence/AU. If you don’t know what concept I’m borrowing from  _Pushing Daisies_ , just google it quickly and read the first line of its description. 💕

 **Angst-o-meter:** moderate/medium.

 **Word count** : 1716

 

* * *

 

why does tragedy exist?  
_because you are full of rage._  
why are you full of rage?  
_because you are full of grief._

\- Anne Carson

 

* * *

 

It’s their first kiss.

 

* * *

 

Chloe discovers this…supposed skill…completely by accident.

She wouldn’t really be able to tell you when it came about, but she suspends disbelief for the moment because, well, Beca is  _alive_.

That in itself might not be so jarring, but the fact remains that just a mere twenty-four hours ago, Beca had been taken off life support and she was, for all intents and purposes,  _dead_.

( _What does it mean to be dead?_

definition: dead in the way that makes Chloe’s entire body tremble with the force of her sobbing; dead in the way that makes Chloe collapse on the ground because she had been  _too late_ ;

…Chloe has a shattered mirror in her bathroom as evidence of that particular fact - the fact that Beca is no longer alive)

This skill, if she were to describe it, is surreal and completely out of the scope of her understanding of human biology, physics, chemistry, philosophy - basically any form of rational thinking and any body of knowledge she can recall, ready-at-hand.

If she lets that all go, she’d tell the story of how she’s somehow standing in front of Beca Mitchell - who looks equally terrified - like this:

 

* * *

 

Chloe is in love with Beca.

( _What is love?_

definition: Chloe is in love with Beca because she likes the way Beca’s eyes light - lit? - upon hearing a particularly catchy song. Chloe is in love with Beca because she likes the way Beca’s fingers and hands flex - flexed? - with the sheer desire to make music, like it was completely organic and reverberated through her very soul.

Chloe is in love with Beca because she simply is and that’s all she chooses to know.)

She has always, on some level, been in love with Beca. She has also always, on some level, ensured the secrecy of this love because the possibilities felt finite with every moment Beca spent with Jesse. She made rash, dumb decisions while they were at Barden, resulting in Beca possibly believing that Chloe had no interest whatsoever in her.

…which had been the furthest thing from the truth. 

The truth was, Chloe thought about Beca nearly every day, thinking about what it meant that her heart fluttered every time Beca even looked at her, or how she really wanted to hold Beca’s hand, but found herself frozen in fear because she couldn’t yet reconcile the strength of her feelings.

 

* * *

 

She’s never really told anybody about this quirk because she figured she wouldn’t be touching a lot of, well,  _dead_  things (at least, not without gloves).

That’s kind of a lie.

She has told one person.

(“I’m going to tell you something crazy,” Chloe mumbles to Beca while they sit on the roof of the Bella house, slightly intoxicated. “You can’t tell anybody.”

Beca turns to her, eyes wide, beer bottle hanging loosely between her fingers. “Shit, what is it?”

“I can…bring things back from the dead. From death,” she clarifies unnecessarily.

Beca’s silence is heavy and long.

“Bec?” Chloe asks, nervously. She tries not to turn to look at Beca apprehensively. “I’m not lying,” she says softly. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Beca sucks in a breath at that. “I know,” she responds. “And I won’t tell anybody. I’ll take it to the grave.”

Chloe smiles at that, not even thinking of how true that might be one day.)

 

* * *

 

When Chloe hears of Beca’s accident, she’s studying about research methodologies and taking preventative measures to prevent disease in animals. To prevent death, even, but only premature death. She doesn’t know how to reconcile the idea of halting death in its tracks when the time comes, but people have always found a way or at least they have created mythologies about such matters.

Despite it all, time prevails and Chloe doesn’t want to challenge that.

It’s a reality of life and the constant that plagues Chloe’s mind daily. Even before Beca’s accident, Chloe thought about how unfair it was that time and death moved so linearly even though growing up, they were taught about the cycle of life, as if there would be hope to be found in the cyclical nature of all things.

There is no cycle. No evenly drawn circle. Only lines and jagged edges - some shorter than others.

When she discovered what she could  _do_ , she had screamed in fear, causing the poor animal she had been gently moving aside to also react in shock and then fall back into death rather quickly because it had brushed against her hand again.

She was five years old at the time.

At twenty-five years old, she doesn’t think there’s anything different about the fear and shock that had rippled through her at the time. Twenty years apart, and all she feels is the way her chest so desperately wants to cave in.

Chloe had  _just_  spoken to Beca the night before. She had joked about maybe one day finally finding time to visit Beca in Los Angeles when school let up. It had been a year since she last saw Beca in person; since she last hugged Beca or even  _touched_  Beca.

Chloe isn’t sure how she makes it to the hospital. The trip there is a liminal space; a blur of pain. Her memories all fight to be at the forefront of her mind, warring for dominance. They all scream at her to remember Beca at her best, but all of Chloe’s memories of Beca are ones she wants to keep forever. That’s the problem.

Now, finally, she collapses in Aubrey’s arms when the surgeon offers condolences and other meaningless words.

“Chloe,” is all Aubrey says. “Oh, Chloe.”

Chloe wishes that the sympathy didn’t stand out to her so effortlessly.

 

* * *

 

She’s not really thinking when she does it. Love makes her hopeless and helpless, especially when she finds herself suddenly loveless.

She takes a chance, using the sleeve of her cardigan to brush an errant strand of hair from Beca’s face. She’s on life support, completely - one hundred percent life support.

The rhythmic rise and fall of Beca’s chest makes Chloe sick.

In fact, so sick that she has to leave the hospital completely, ignoring Aubrey and Amy’s cries for her to stop.

She exits into the bright sunlight, hands on her knees. Heaving a breath, she weighs her options.

She can’t imagine a life where she wouldn’t be able to touch Beca again, but a life without Beca at all, especially not when they’ve all just figured out what they want to do, just doesn’t seem like a life worth living to Chloe.

In the end, it’s not even a question. It’ll always be Beca. Beca deserves all the chances in the world.

 

* * *

 

The tightness in Chloe’s chest doesn’t quite leave her even as she makes her way slowly back to the room.

Her fingers curl in anticipation as her imagination bestows upon her the ways in which Beca could resent her.

It does feel inherently selfish because she’s acting in her own self-interest, undeniably.

“Aubrey,” she says quietly, upon seeing her best friend by Beca’s bedside.

“Where have you been?” Aubrey demands, standing up immediately.

Chloe fights the instinct to shush Aubrey lest she wakes Beca.

“Do you know how worried we were?” Aubrey continues. “You’ve been gone for hours.

“I have to do something,” Chloe says slowly. “And I think you’re going to think I’m crazy, I’m sure, since I don’t even know if it’ll work for sure.”

Aubrey’s expression morphs into one of concern. “Chloe, what’s going on?”

“Bree,” Chloe insists, using her go-to nickname to reassure Aubrey’s uncertainty. “I just need…a moment.”

Aubrey stands tentatively, but obliges. She watches Chloe carefully as she edges out of the room. 

When the door clicks shut, Chloe takes in the sight before her.

She didn’t have time to properly grieve Beca’s death and seeing it laid out so plainly in front of her is absolutely devastating.

She barely manages to collapse into the chair by Beca’s bedside before a sob wracks her body and she presses her forehead against the cool metal rail of the hospital bed.

In death, she supposes that people often think of all their regrets and pain, but that was probably just an explanation for all the people that are left behind as opposed to the ones who are dying. She wonders briefly if Beca had any peace.

Sitting up, she swipes hastily at her tears, looking upon Beca’s pale (paler than usual) complexion. The only reason she gets to see this facsimile of Beca - this copy of what Beca might have looked like alive - is because Beca’s parents have yet to make the trip to Los Angeles to sign off on taking her off life support.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe chokes, unable to stop the tears from spilling over again. “I love you so much and I just never told you.”

Reaching out a hand, she moves to brush Beca’s cheek, but pulls back, sucking in a breath.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, changing course. She sits up and hovers over Beca’s face. “I can’t spend the rest of my life missing you, Beca Mitchell.”

She takes a breath before she leans in to press her lips against Beca’s slightly parted ones. She quickly brings her hand up to cup Beca’s cheek, gently deepening the kiss.

In death, Chloe thinks, there are so many moments that fight for dominance. In this particular reversal of death, the moments that fight for dominance are not memories, but rather dreams of what could have been.

So, she kisses Beca into consciousness, imagining that it’s a quiet morning in their apartment. She imagines that Beca smiles into the kiss; imagines that Beca is warm from sleep and gently parts her lips to welcome Chloe further into her embrace. 

She imagines all the sunshine and warmth that will have shone on them and all the memories they’ll have shared together.

In the background, she hears the heart rate monitor change its rhythm drastically.

Distantly as she pulls away, making sure to keep her skin from touching Beca’s, she hears the rush of doctors and nurses and the sound of Aubrey’s voice.

The only thing she can process at the moment is Beca’s eyes, finally wide open and shining with tears.

 

* * *

 

It’s their last kiss.


	19. (G) hello, this is your wake-up call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Lazy Morning Kisses Before They’ve Even Opened Their Eyes, Still Mumbling Half-Incoherently, Not Wanting To Wake Up.

**Summary** : Chloe ends up being the traveller between the two of them. She doesn’t mind. Fluff + est. relationship.

**Word count** : 1,474

 

* * *

 

Whenever Chloe has to travel for business, she has to mentally prepare herself at least a week in advance. Travelling is fun - to an extent.

Chloe can’t be blamed that she simply enjoys the comfort and warmth of her own bed and being able to cuddle up to her sometimes grumpy, always sleepy girlfriend, especially since Beca works long hours at the studio anyway.

The travelling thing…it’s new.

Chloe’s supervisor thought it would be best if she attended conferences in order to put forward a good name and a young face for their lab. She enjoys the networking aspect, even if it gets tiring at times. She doesn’t enjoy the way people look down on her upon first meeting her because of her age, but she grins through it, secretly enjoying the surprise on their faces

Chloe grumbles to herself when the plane continues to taxi, the early Los Angeles sun streaming into the cabin.

She could really use a nap right about now.

Another thing Chloe kind of dislikes about travelling is how much it disrupts her sleep schedule.

Her sleep schedule being something that is defined by how often she gets to fall asleep and wake up next to Beca.

She sometimes misses Beca when she goes off to work or arrives too late, just missing Beca’s waking period. Between herself and Beca, she never would have guessed she’d be travelling more at this point in their lives, but she can’t complain because the money is good in research and she likes being able to contribute towards a field she’s highly invested in.

Despite it all, Chloe doesn’t think she’ll change it for the world because she loves coming home to Beca above all. She loves burying her nose into Beca’s hair or neck - whichever is most accessible - and just drifting off into the dregs of sleep she manages to get.

Despite it all, Chloe loves being able to fall asleep, knowing that she can wake up in Beca’s arms or to a note from Beca, promising a nice dinner when she gets back.

Today, she’s unlocking the front door to their shared apartment on a Saturday morning. Between the airport, the taxi, and finally making it to their front door, she’s already exhausted and she’s pretty sure it’s barely six o’clock.

She smiles at the pieces of Beca she can spot around their apartment (the shared aspect of which still thrills Chloe everyday): the messy, unopened pile of mail on the kitchen table, Beca’s “secondary” headphones on the counter, and a bag of Beca’s favourite coffee propped against their coffee maker. Having these things around only makes Chloe even more happy to be home because she knows that sharing her life with Beca is exactly what she needs and wants for the foreseeable future.

She places her bags carefully by the couch in the living room before tiptoeing down the hall to their bedroom, already excited to dive into bed and catch a few more winks of sleep. She grimaces a little at the thought of sleeping in the clothes she wore on the plane, so she carefully strips down to her underwear in the doorway of their bedroom and dumps her clothes in the hamper before rushing to hastily scrub at her face in the master bathroom.

Carefully navigating around the medley of hers and Beca’s belongings, she trains her eyes on the quietly snoring lump in the middle of the bed. She can see messy brown hair poking out just barely at the top of the duvet and grins in anticipation of cuddling up to Beca’s sleep-warmed body (her personal space heater, much to Beca’s chagrin).

When she does peel back the blanket, she slides in carefully as to not disturb Beca’s sleep. She does her best because Beca has chosen to sleep right in the middle of the bed and is fairly spread out, taking up a surprising amount of space for somebody who is 1) lying on her side and; 2) so tiny.

Beca makes a quiet noise of discontent when Chloe’s arms slide around her waist effortlessly, though she shuffles back further into Chloe’s body. Chloe takes the moment to just breathe and take in the scent of Beca’s shampoo, the softness of her hair and how the errant strands just barely tickle her skin, and the way Beca’s body molds comfortably against hers - a fact she still marvels over.

“Bed hog,” Chloe mutters, after she presses a tender kiss to Beca’s ear.

Beca snores in response.

 

* * *

 

Chloe thinks that travelling has its perks. That is strangely her first waking thought.

Though, not so strange when she takes in her surroundings as best as she can through the haze of sleep.

When Chloe comes to, it’s to the sensation of soft lips against her neck and jaw. She shifts without opening her eyes (she doesn’t know if she can because she feels an impending headache), causing the wandering lips to pause. They take a detour to her cheek and ear. Chloe’s body musters up a small tremble.

“You’re home early,” Beca rasps into her ear. “And you’re not wearing any clothes.” Her hands wander tantalizingly across her hip and down her thigh to make her point.

Chloe struggles to formulate a response, still exhausted from the red eye flight. “G’morning,” she manages to say.

“Hello,” Beca greets, gently cupping her jaw and tilting her head. Chloe can only oblige, lazily dragging her hands up Beca’s back to hold her closer. Beca’s lips are soft, pliant, and eager to become reacquainted with Chloe’s in the early Los Angeles morning.

Beca sighs quietly into the kiss, lazily running her fingers through Chloe’s hair. She nudges at Chloe’s leg persistently until Chloe gets the hint to let her body flop backwards until she’s prone. Beca moves on top of her, continuing with her slow kiss. At Chloe’s receptive response, Beca hums, sliding a hand up Chloe’s side to cup her cheek.

“I missed you,” Beca continues in the same tone before nipping at her upper lip once more. “I always miss you when you’re not here.” Another hum from her throat when Chloe’s hand slides dangerously down her back. “I miss you when you’re not home. Who else is going to sort through the junk mail?”

These are the moments that make Chloe fall even more in love with Beca Mitchell every day. Every morning that she gets to wake up to Beca and the knowledge that Beca loves her in return…she’s not sure she wants to exchange that for anything else in the world.

That’s a lot to process for Chloe’s sleep-addled brain, so she just lets Beca’s warm weight gently lull her back into a peaceful state.

Beca’s fingers tap lightly at her cheek in a playful rhythm. “Hey, open your eyes,” she says, breath warm against Chloe’s cheek.

“I’m tired,” Chloe mumbles. She pinches Beca’s side as best as she can. It doesn’t do anything. “Kiss me,” she demands tiredly, but she’s pretty sure it comes out slurred and half-coherent.

Beca laughs, causing Chloe’s heart to race again. “You didn’t say you missed me too, weirdo.”

“Mmm, Bec,” she murmurs, sucking in an uneven breath before lifting her head to press her lips back against Beca’s. Beca meets her halfway, gently nudging Chloe’s legs apart so she can rest more comfortably between them. Chloe lets one hand slide up to tangle in soft curls and guides her other hand to hold Beca’s waist firmly in order to pull their bodies closer – even more so, considering that Beca’s already lying on top of her. “I missed you,” she admits, finally opening her eyes. “Obviously.”

Beca hovers over her, hair mussed from sleep and eyes bright with uncharacteristic Saturday morning energy. Chloe can’t help the inhale she takes when she sees Beca’s sheer happiness to have her back home. She wants to tell Beca how beautiful she is, how much she loves her, or something equally cheesy. Instead, she just shakes her head and lets Beca initiate another kiss, slightly messier than before. When their lips glide together, Chloe can’t help the contented hum that rises from her throat, prompting Beca to more firmly press her lips against Chloe’s, attempting to coax her lips apart.

Chloe hums quietly in response, parting her lips just barely. Beca takes it as her cue to gently coax her awake further by running her tongue across Chloe’s lower lip, using her fingers to massage her lower back. “Hello,” she manages to say, finally more awake than just moments ago.

Beca’s smile is bright and sunny and reserved solely for Chloe, happy that she’s managed to appropriately wake up her girlfriend.

“Welcome home,” Beca says.

Chloe loves travelling, so long as she always gets to come home to this.


	20. (T) it's 3AM, could you be the one?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on a prompt from @dailyau/@stardust-sketcher: Its like 3am and I’m exhausted and I can hear you raging next door about failing at putting an ikea bed together so here I am helping you put it together and holy shit you’re cute AU
> 
> Happy (early?) birthday @lilhan! You asked and I have attempted to deliver. Hope your day is as wonderful as you are. :) I managed to smash this out within the past hour, so hopefully it’s not too horrible!

**Summary** : Chloe realizes she has a new neighbour.

 

**word count** : 2329

 

* * *

 

Chloe has only recently taken on the graveyard shift at the local veterinary emergency hospital. She loves this particular part of Los Angeles because it’s far enough away from the hustle and bustle (read: traffic jams) of the city, but close enough that she can enjoy a night out on one of her rare weekends off.

She’s racking up hours at the clinic because she’s trying to apply to vet school. She’s only about fifty hours away from a good-enough number to put on her application, so she’s pretty pumped about finally churning out those applications and sucking up to old professors for recommendation letters.

“Hey,” she greets her cat when he trots into her line of sight.

Button is an adorable Scottish Fold that she adopted from her brother when he had to move across the country for a job (read: he dumped the cat on her). She doesn’t regret anything about adopting Button because he’s all the company she needs on most nights. He meows happily (or angrily - she’s still unsure) at her, quickly dodging her repetitive pats and scratches before dashing between her legs. He sits expectantly by his bowl, tail flicking back and forth while he watches her expectantly.

Tilting her head, she raises her eyebrow at him. “I know Aubrey came by earlier to feed you,” she tells him, even as she opens the top cupboard to pull out a small bag of treats. “You’re lucky I love you,” she tells him.

She’s about to put the bag back when a sound startles her so much that she drops the bag, causing a few more treats to skitter out. “No!” she whisper-yells, trying to collect them. Button bats at her hand aggressively with his paws and quickly gathers two treats in his mouth before she can stop him.

Sighing, she straightens slowly and turns towards the hallway, which is where she heard the rattling and thudding.

“Fuck!” she hears, echoing from somewhere down the hall. Startled, she makes her way towards the bedroom, picking up the baseball bat from her front closet just in case. She wonders vaguely if this is how she dies. She never expected it’d be in Los Angeles, so she supposes that’s a plus.

Peeking around her empty room, she realizes that she likely just heard a neighbour. It seems empty enough but she holds her bat up and flings open her closet door and flicks the lights on.

Empty.

She frowns, not enjoying how paper-thin the walls are. Also - 2:45 a.m.? Don’t people need to sleep? Chloe makes sure to schedule her extracurricular activities for appropriate hours.

She props her bat against her dresser and sighs, throwing her hair up into a bun before heading to the bathroom to wash her face. She wants to get the clinical smell off her. She sheds her scrubs, sighing in relief.

When she’s rubbing her facial wash into her cheeks, she startles again when there’s a light thud from the wall against her bed and another distinct curse.

Scowling, she takes care to not poke her eye out and quickly rinses. She dashes into her room and leaps on her bed before hitting her fist firmly against the adjoining wall. “Hey!” she shouts. “People are trying to sleep!”

There’s a brief silence before another, more purposeful thud against the wall. “I’m trying to sleep,” comes the muffled shout back, sounding vaguely feminine. Chloe strains her hearing, putting herself right against the wall.

“What?” Chloe asks, letting her fist drop to her side. “That doesn’t sound like sleeping, I’m just saying.”

There’s another thud against the wall, slightly less aggressive. “Dude! I’m just - I’m trying to put my bed together, okay? Can you mind your own business?”

Chloe scowls. She’s sure she’s never met this neighbour before. Maybe it’s an Airbnb tenant. “Well it’s 3 a.m. and there are supposed to be noise regulations in place. Maybe you should have put your bed together this afternoon.”

“Whatever!”

Chloe huffs and taps the wall. “I’m coming over and I’m bringing my cat. You’re 2E, right?”

“Yeah,” comes the faint muffled reply, before “Wait, what? Seriously? No!”

Chloe is already pulling a sweater around her shoulders and sliding her feet into her running shoes. She picks up Button along the way.

He could use another friend.

Chloe raps on the door, sharply, but quietly, mindful of the other surrounding apartments.

“Hello?” she calls quietly.

A pause. “How do I know you’re not going to kill me?” comes the voice, closer than when Chloe heard it through the wall.

Chloe rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to kill you. I’m just going to help you speed things along because you’ve clearly never put a bed together before.” She peers at the peephole, wondering if her neighbour is peering at her nervously.

There’s a dramatic sigh. Chloe stifles a grin. “Fine,” the disembodied voice says and the door finally swings open.

The first thing Chloe notes - and later, she’ll blame her fizzled-out brain - is how cute her neighbour is. The second is, well, how quickly her brain moves from cute to “hot” in a blink.

Chloe notices that she’s not particularly tall, almost the same height as Chloe. She’s dressed casually in a t-shirt and sweatpants, which Chloe absently notes are hanging low enough that she can see a sliver of (appealing) skin. Her brown hair is pulled into a ponytail, loose tendrils coming to frame her face appealingly.

What compels Chloe the most to this stranger/neighbour is how striking her eyes are. They’re sharp, cobalt blue, and trained directly on Chloe’s-

Chest? No.

(Not that she’d mind.)

“Uh,” Chloe starts, her eyebrow creeping upwards. “Are-”

“-Is that a cat?”

Chloe blinks, realizing she had forgotten she carried Button over. “Oh, this is, uh, Button. I hope you don’t mind.” Chloe shifts him in her arms, ignoring the little aggravated purr she hears from him. “I’m Chloe, by the way.” She offers a slight smile and her hand. “See? Not a murderer. Just a concerned neighbour,” she chirps.

Beca’s lips twitch into a smile, immediately making her look even more beautiful. She shakes Chloe’s hand. “I’m Beca. I, uh,” Beca opens the door further. “I just moved in, so…” She shifts, a bit awkwardly. “Come in?”

Chloe finds Beca’s behaviour oddly charming. She slides in, brushing past Beca. “Shoes on or off?” she asks politely.

“You can keep them on. Everything’s a little messy, so,” Beca says, gesturing at her own feet that are adorned with her own running shoes. Chloe is already intrigued by her neighbour and hopes she isn’t completely overstepping her boundaries, which is something she has been working on.

Beca pauses, turning back towards the short hall leading to her bedroom. Chloe is surreptitiously trying to peer into the assorted boxes in the kitchen and dining room. “What was your cat’s name?” Beca asks, when Chloe moves closer.

“Button.”

“He doesn’t look like a button,” is Beca’s immediate response.

Chloe frowns. “I mean, I hope he doesn’t?”

Beca tilts her head. “He kind of looks squashed, actually. Like his face is a little smushed.” Beca points at her own cheeks for emphasis.

Chloe is offended on many levels. “Excuse me? That’s rude and untrue.”

Beca shrugs. “The bedroom’s this way.”

Chloe scowls and holds Button closer to her chest. “Don’t listen to her,” she whispers.

Beca’s apartment mirrors her own, though sparsely decorated considering she’s just moved in.

“Here’s the culprit,” Beca says, gesturing with her arms. There’s a mess of wooden planks scattered across her bedroom floor.

“Good God,” Chloe says before she can stop herself.

“I know,” Beca says, sounding slightly embarrassed. “I’ve never really lived by myself before and I got in so late. I really just wanted to put together this bed so I could catch some shut-eye.”

“It kind of is a two-person job,” Chloe admits. “Especially since you’re so small,” she says slyly. She’s not sure where it comes from, but she feels comfortable and relaxed around Beca - enough so to attempt a jab at her, in an attempt at humour.

Thankfully, Beca is receptive and huffs indignantly. “I am like...half an inch shorter than you. One inch, at most.” The equally teasing tone isn’t lost on Chloe and she allows herself a smile.

Button meows, blinking up at Chloe tiredly. Chloe coos, kissing him on the head. “Hm, maybe I shouldn’t have brought him over,” she murmurs.

Beca steps closer and hesitantly lifts a hand to his face so he can acclimatize himself to her scent and presence. Chloe is surprised to see how easily he allows Beca to gently stroke his head and torso with a finger.

“You can put him in my bathroom. There’s nothing really in there yet. I’ll fill the sink with water,” Beca offers. She clears her throat when she realizes how quiet her voice had become. She darts her eyes up to Chloe’s before she steps away hastily.

“That would be nice,” Chloe says, once she finds herself able to breathe again.

She picks up the instruction manual on Beca’s bedside table.

“You know Ikea’s supposed to be idiot-proof, right?” Chloe calls into the bathroom, before following the sound of Beca’s indignant huff.

 

* * *

 

Chloe learns that Beca is an aspiring DJ by night and a music producer during the day.

“Anything I would have heard?” Chloe asks, slotting a slate of wood into place. Beca holds out a wooden dowel helpfully. “I need the other thing,” Chloe says absently. “The screw thing.”

“Oh.” Beca rummages through the bag. “I don’t know if you’ve heard anything. I just post things on Soundcloud from time to time. Usually my original stuff.” Beca shuffles around. “I have worked on a few Taylor Swift productions, though.”

Chloe drops the instruction manual she had been perusing. “What? That’s amazing!”

“Taylor Swift?”

Chloe shakes her head. “I guess - but the fact that you put out your own original music. That’s incredible. I thought you definitely just did remixes and other…” Chloe gestures vaguely. “...production stuff.”

Beca’s blush reaches her ears. “Oh. Do you want to...hear something?” She looks genuinely surprised, yet touched, that Chloe is so receptive to her profession.

Chloe nods, dropping her materials completely. She feels excitement buzz through her, wondering if she can still chalk it up to the late hour.

Beca nods vigorously, matching Chloe’s enthusiasm. “Okay, I’ll just - I’ll get my laptop!”

 

* * *

 

Somehow at 3:32 a.m., Chloe finds herself leaning against the bedroom wall, next to an unfinished bed, and listening to music from her neighbour’s laptop speakers.

Beca Mitchell is...something.

Chloe had been prepared to completely write off Beca as a lost cause because what adult doesn’t know how to put together an Ikea bed?

According to Beca, lots of people, apparently.

Regardless, Chloe finds herself drawn to Beca, both physically and emotionally. There’s something about the woman that endears Chloe to her.

“This sounds amazing,” Chloe says quietly, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the quiet music. She can feel Beca breathing next to her. It baffles her how intensely Beca is focused on her screen, drawn in by her own passion and talent. “Is that you singing?”

Beca nods, shifting slightly. “I, uh, sing some back-up vocals from time to time.” Her eyes slide over to Chloe’s tentatively. “Do you sing?”

“I...did some a capella in university.” She pauses. “Do you know what…a capella is?”

Beca laughs. “I mean, I can’t put a bed together, but I haven’t completely lived under a rock. Of course I do.”

“Well, sorry,” Chloe huffs, nudging Beca with her shoulder. Beca only laughs again, this time sounding closer to a giggle. “I mean, you’re out here living that celebrity life. I thought a capella might be a little nerdy for you.”

“You think I’m cool?” Beca asks immediately.

It kind of reminds Chloe of a nervous freshman, seeking validation. Validation that Chloe’s only too happy to give. “Among other things,” she teases, testing the waters.

Beca’s furrowed brow is adorable and would be even more attractive if it didn’t mean Beca was likely trying to figure out how to interpret Chloe’s comment.

“I thought you were, uh, very attractive when you first opened the door,” Chloe says.

A smirk appears on Beca’s face, surprising Chloe a little bit. She swallows, a little nervously when the smirk continues to transform Beca completely, now exuding complete confidence. Chloe realizes she had just been played.

“I mean, you’re not so bad yourself, Chloe Beale.” Beca’s eyes seem to sparkle in the low light.

Chloe thinks that there have been worse ways to meet somebody new.

 

* * *

 

Somehow, the bed gets made somewhere around 4:00 a.m.. Chloe doesn’t quite remember falling asleep, but when she blinks awake, it’s about 7:30 a.m. and she can hear Button meowing from the bathroom. She sits up, dislodging Beca’s arm from around her waist. She winces when Beca grunts quietly in her sleep and twists so her body is curled and facing Chloe.

Chloe is struck once more by how attracted she is to this woman.

“God, you’re cute,” Chloe mutters. She tentatively brushes a strand of hair from Beca’s face.

She remembers talking until they fell asleep, just talking about music, their hobbies, and other interests.

Chloe remembers thinking that Beca’s voice could lull her to sleep anytime, despite having found it so irritating only a couple hours before.

And just like that, she’s awake at 7:31 a.m. and gently tucking Beca’s blanket up around her shoulders to protect her from the AC blast.

She leaves a quick note containing her phone number and places it right next to the instructions for Beca’s bed before heading over to collect Button from the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

Later that day, Chloe receives a text from an unknown number.

**Unknown (2:42 p.m.)**   
_Hey, so I kind of need help putting my dining table together. Want to help me figure it out, then maybe I can make you dinner or something?_

Chloe grins.


	21. (T) Beca Mitchell vs. The Paparazzi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t underestimate what a person can do to protect those they care about.”

**Summary:** Chloe and Beca have been dating for a while and they live together in Los Angeles, but they’re still trying to figure out how to navigate Beca’s growing fame. Including aggressive paparazzi.

 **Word count:**  1639

 

* * *

 

Something Beca never quite gets used to is the way the paparazzi get in her face when she’s just trying to figure out what facial scrub or eyeliner to get at Sephora. Or when she’s just trying to buy some nice underwear.

“That’s so invasive,” Beca mutters.

“Your album was amazing,” Chloe says, holding a bra up to her chest. “What do you think?” Beca inhales sharply, eyes widening at the sight and tugs Chloe behind a corner, out of view from the glass windows. “What’s going on?” Chloe asks, dropping her arm.

“They can see everything,” Beca whispers in a low tone. “I don’t want them seeing what undergarments you wear!”

Chloe’s brow furrows. “I’m fully clothed,” she says, gesturing at her attire.

“I know, but it’s the principle, dude,” Beca huffs. Chloe thinks she looks very cute, all pouty and upset.

“Why don’t you just make a call or something? Get your manager to reach out to somebody?”

Beca sighs, leaning against the wall. She flicks nonchalantly at the closest hanger. “I mean, it’s not a big deal. They’re alright for the most part. I guess I’m still figuring this out. Getting used to my space being everyone’s space.”

Chloe feels her heart hurt for Beca a little bit. She only wants Beca to be happy and content, especially when her line of work is already taxing and stressful. Despite it all, she’s so proud of Beca and everything she manages to achieve.

“I love you,” Chloe whispers, leaning in to peck Beca’s cheek.

Beca tilts her head, uncaring and loops her hand around Chloe’s neck to kiss her fully on the lips. “I love you,” she stresses, kissing Chloe again for good measure. She grins a little at Chloe’s dazed look, enjoying moments where she can manage to stun Chloe in the same way that she does to Beca every day.

She lets her gaze linger on the garment Chloe had been holding. “Are you, uh, going to get that?”

Chloe blinks, confused at the change in subject, but her confusion is fleeting when she takes in Beca’s expression. “I can get it,” she says slowly. “…If you think it’s something that you don’t mind seeing on your floor later.”

Beca turns red immediately. “Let’s go wait in line,” she says quickly.

Waiting in line, Chloe nudges her, noticing a couple of photographers outside the store. Beca groans, simply gripping Chloe’s hand tighter. “Just straight into the Uber when we get out,” she tells Chloe, before pulling out her phone.

When they finally exit, Chloe follows Beca’s lead, tucking in close to her so that they can quickly dive into the Uber.

“Beca! Beca! Buy anything nice?”

“How are you and Chloe doing?”

“Beca, what about those rumours about you and Calvin Harris!”

A photographer jostles them, knocking into Chloe with his camera. She stumbles, causing Beca to pause and immediately whirl on them angrily.

“Hey!” Her shout startles everybody into submission. “Back off, okay? I don’t want to have to call somebody. You got your pictures, right? Leave us alone.”

There’s anger in Beca’s tone that is almost foreign to Chloe. She hasn’t quite heard anger like that for years.

“Beca,” she says quietly, already halfway into the car. “Come on.”

Beca follows, still breathing heavily.

“What rumours?” Chloe asks when Beca slams the car door closed, hoping for a very slight change in subject. “Is that why they’ve been all over you recently?”

Beca is quiet for a moment, as if she’s gathering herself.

“I had lunch with the guy because we’re trying to sign him since his old contract is ending soon.” Beca shrugs, finally seeming much calmer. She tugs Chloe’s hand into her lap, rubbing a thumb over the skin. “Just one lunch and all of Hollywood thinks you’re dating. Sorry,” she apologizes to Chloe, flushing slightly.

“Oh,” Chloe says. “Is he going to work with you? Is there a collaboration in the works?”

Beca smiles and leans her head on Chloe’s shoulder, telling her about her job as they make their way home.

 

* * *

 

Chloe doesn’t think too much about the paparazzi incident again. She only worries a little bit about Beca’s well-being, but Beca assures her that there’s nothing to worry about.

Since moving to Los Angeles, Chloe has enjoyed biking. She bikes to work whenever she can and enjoys dragging Beca out for walks or bike rides at Venice Beach. Despite Beca’s insistence that she doesn’t enjoy physical activity, Chloe thinks she manages to be persuasive in more ways than one.

(Most recently, Chloe thinks that she got her money’s worth from her most recent Victoria’s Secret purchase…and more.)

It’s a sunny Friday afternoon. Chloe whistles, dragging her bike out of the garage. She sends a Snapchat to Beca and grins when she gets a selfie in return.

Chloe smiles fondly at the basket on her bike - a gift from Beca - and puts her phone and wallet into it.

Humming, she bikes to the convenience store, hoping to pick up some milk and eggs. She vaguely feels like somebody’s following her the whole way there, but she can’t place anything out of the ordinary.

It’s only when she exits the store that she sees a familiar backwards baseball cap and the slouched posture over a camera and telephoto lens.

He perks up when he sees her, which is surprising to Chloe because she’s not the famous one in her relationship with Beca. He raises his camera. She shakes her head and sends Beca a text.

**Chloe (4:36 p.m.)  
** _You won’t believe this…there are photogs following me now._

Beca’s reply is instantaneous.

**Beca (4:36 p.m.)  
** _WHAT?? I’m almost home, where are you??_  
_?????  
_ _Chlo_

Chloe makes sure that the eggs are snug and safe in her basket.

**Chloe (4:38 p.m.)  
** _Bec, it’s fine. I just went to the store. Heading home now.  
Love you_

**Beca (4:39 p.m.)  
** _ughhh okay be safe  
Love you too_

She makes her way home and realizes that he’s following her on a bike of his own.

“Beca’s not here,” Chloe says, trying to keep her tone light. She pedals faster when she hears the clink of his bicycle and the sound of his wheels on the pavement behind her. “Why are you following me?” she demands, slowing so she can turn to face him. She’s so close to home. She just wants to curl up on her couch with Beca.

Chloe nearly falls off her bike when he crowds her aggressively. “Hey!” she cries, quickly dismounting and whirling to face him. “That was unnecessary. Can you back off, please?”

“Hey, just working on a story! Shots of you are wanted by proxy.”

Chloe scowls, wheeling her bike further off to the side. She ignores the throbbing in her shin from where she hit it against the pedal.

“Why are you the only one here?”

She’s just rounding the corner when he grabs her arm and she startles, yelping as she does so.

“Please, come on. I’m desperate.” He tries to smile at her, but it makes her skin crawl. “It’s just a job. You just need to tell Beca to go to a few specific places and I get the shots I need,” he explains.

“I don’t care. Get your hands off me.”

“You should care!” he exclaims, just as Beca herself rounds the corner from their house.

Beca’s eyes fixate immediately on his grasp on Chloe’s arm and the wince on Chloe’s face.

“Hey!” she yells, dashing forward. “Hey, get your fucking hands off her!”

There’s something in Beca’s anger that’s palpable even in the pleasant breeze.

“I didn’t mean it!” he yells, raising his arms. Beca has half a mind to smash his fucking camera. She places a hand protectively on her girlfriend’s back and glares pointedly at the man she vaguely recognizes. “I was just…having a conversation.”

Chloe can feel Beca practically vibrating next to her. “Did your conversation have to involve your hands on my girlfriend?” she snaps, and Chloe can feel Beca’s hand tighten into her t-shirt in her frustration.

“I need some shots or I’m going to get cut,” he exclaims. “You never go out,” he adds an afterthought.

Beca can’t believe this is a legitimate critique of her lifestyle.

The paparazzi don’t bother her much. She just smiles and tries to be as polite as possible, recognizing that it’s a part of her life now.

Even if they happened to get too aggressive or too close to her and she got an elbow or a camera lens in the face, it had never been a big deal to her.

There’d been an incident last year when she and Chloe were swarmed and both of them being significantly smaller than everybody else, Chloe had gotten a bruise on her arm and Beca had very nearly dislocated her shoulder.

Even then, that didn’t seem that bad, but Beca’s been wary since then.

But now, seeing that Chloe had been alone and harrassed by this one guy, it makes Beca’s temper rise like no other.

“Whatever,” he scoffs. “It’s not like I assaulted her.”

Beca’s not exactly sure what happens next, but when she comes back from her rage blackout, Chloe is hovering in front of her, eyes wide.

“Beca, oh my God! Are you okay?”

“Oh shit,” Beca says.

 

* * *

 

**_Comments on JustJared’s Post: Beca Mitchell Clocks a Paparazzi in the Face! See photos here!_ **

**sarah_fredman1**  commented: jesus, she packs a punch lol

 **Grace_1987** commented: oh my god, I kind of wish there was a video. Hope she doesn’t get into too much trouble!

 **greg85** commented: I heard it was because he was stalking her gf! That’s so shitty of him

  * **anon18**  commented:  **@greg85**  oh shit, i didn’t realize…don’t underestimate what a person can do to protect those they care about, i guess lol. Not condoning violence tho.  
  

  * **greg85**  commented: nah, he’s not even pressing charges. I heard he was fired too.




	22. (G) fools rushing in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We are not going to steal someone’s dog.”

 

 **Summary:**  Beca and Chloe love and support their five-year-old son through everything he does. Almost everything.

 **Word count** : 1966

 

* * *

 

Beca likes to think she has grown more perceptive over time. A product of dating Chloe, proposing to Chloe, marrying Chloe, and then finally having a child with the love of her life. All of that has definitely amounted to an increased sense of awareness as to when the people she loves are distressed or in pain.

Chloe tells her that maybe it’s because she’s a genuinely kind human being and that she’s grown up a lot over the years.

They’ve both adapted to parenthood well despite Beca’s original hesitations about having children. She can’t imagine being anywhere else in her life right now, content with how everything’s turned out.

Chloe remembers the entire pregnancy with vivid clarity. Beca had been there night and day, attentive to Chloe’s every desire, even obscure grocery store requests in the middle of the night. She hazily recalls waking up almost every morning to Beca singing quietly to their little bump, often forgetting about the own pains in her back, content to watch her wife sing to their baby happily.

It had been a stark change from only a year and a half prior, where Beca had been somewhat adamant about not wanting children for at least a few years. Chloe’s not quite sure where it all clicks for Beca, though she knows they both regret the harsh arguments and fights between them over the topic.

Still, it feels like a fading dream, now that they happily have a son between them.

Theodore Beale-Mitchell is born on a Thursday night in March, weighing in at a healthy 3.9 kilograms, bright blue eyes, and the tiniest tuft of brown hair on top of his head. Beca literally cries when she has to separate from him and Chloe for just a few moments while the nurses quietly check in to clean up and make sure everything’s okay.

She’s back in Chloe’s hospital room only minutes later, hovering with uncertainty while Chloe adjusts their newborn in her arms.

It’s then and there that both Beca and Chloe vow to never let anything bad happen to their baby boy.

When they upgrade to a nicer home in a nice suburb north of Los Angeles, it comes with the added perks of better school options for Theodore. The school is snugly in between their home and Chloe’s neighbourhood veterinary clinic, so they adapt to their little community and surroundings fairly quickly.

Beca thinks that even though Teddy doesn’t necessarily have her biological traits, he picked up on a little of her prickly stoicness. She tells Chloe it’s just how people like them look out for themselves - with caution and hesitance. Chloe understands perfectly, despite having a completely opposite outlook on life. She adores how Beca bonds with their son, however. She has a million photos of similarly-shaded heads bent over a laptop, or the two of them sharing a pair of headphones, or her favourite - one of them donning similar leather jackets. Teddy’s adorable little brown leather jacket is one that Beca brings home - a gift from a client.

The thing about both Beca and Chloe is that they don’t manage conflict well. It’s not necessarily something that they have a lot of experience with, both of them hating the feelings that well up inside them whenever they fight - especially with each other.

They raise Teddy to be a kind, loving little boy. He is always respectful and careful with his words. He is generous and giving, but also wary of being taken advantage of. He loves animals, something that Beca once believed couldn’t have been genetic, but she truly believes it might be. She watches on in amusement whenever Chloe carefully shows him around the clinic on Saturday mornings. He stares at a fluffy white german shepherd, making grabby hands in its direction until Beca carts him back into the waiting area.

He’s the best of what both Chloe and Beca have to offer him.

It comes as a surprise to them, therefore, when he comes home in tears in his eyes and a scrape on his hand.

Beca is furious.

Chloe is heartbroken.

“Oh baby,” Chloe murmurs, bending down to inspect his hand. “Who did this?”

His eyes widen. “I - I did,” he whispers. “I fell.”

Chloe doesn’t believe him for a second, but Beca beats her to the punch. “Did somebody…make you fall, buddy?” she asks, bending down next to them. She brushes his hair from his forehead. “Has this happened before?”

He looks like he’s about to lie to their faces, but Chloe raises an eyebrow, causing his confidence to waver. “Yes…it’s these boys at school,” he admits quietly.

Chloe is well aware of what boys at ages five and six were like, having grown up closely with her cousins in Portland. They were menaces. They had been fairly tolerable until they turned their teasing and bullying towards her when she transferred into their elementary school after her parents moved. Worst years of her life.

“How long has this been going on?” Chloe asks, ensuring her voice doesn’t waver. She can feel Beca’s comforting presence beside her as well as the gentle hand that rubs at her back.

“I don’t know,” he admits, shuffling his feet. He wiggles closer to them, throwing his arms around Chloe’s neck. “A while.” He reaches out for Beca’s hand. “They…said stuff about you.”

Beca feels her heart jump into her throat. “What…stuff?”

“Like how your music really sucks.”

Chloe bites back a chuckle and twists to lock eyes with Beca. She can see relief and amusement in Beca’s eyes.

“That’s rude,” Chloe states, standing up. She groans as his weight causes her knees to wobble a little. “Mommy’s music only sucks a little bit.”

Teddy swats at her back lightly, giggling. He tucks his head against Chloe’s shoulder, turning his face so he can grin at Beca. “I like mommy’s music.”

Chloe continues chatting with him as she carries him into the kitchen. “Want to know a secret? I love mommy’s music.”

“That’s not a secret, mama!” Teddy’s voice carries from the kitchen. Beca shakes her head.

 

* * *

 

The topic of his school bullies doesn’t come up again until a few weeks later.

“Why don’t we have a dog?” Theodore asks moodily, sliding his waffles around on his plate.

“That’s a great question,” Chloe pipes up, putting her thermos down on the counter. “Why don’t we have a dog?”

Beca groans. She had forgotten that there are two children living in her house.

“Everybody has a dog. Or a cat.”

“Yes, why don’t we have a cat?” Chloe mutters, tapping her chin.

“Chlo,” Beca calls, warning in her voice.

“Yes, dear,” she gets in return.

“Bobby says that only losers don’t have pets.”

“Bobby’s wrong,” Beca says steadily. She wonders if she’s actually going to have to go in to talk to this kid’s parents. Or Teddy’s teacher. She finishes off the last of her coffee. “I didn’t have pets growing up and now look at me.”

Chloe snickers. Beca pretends not to hear.

“I had three dogs when I was a kid,” Chloe whispers to Teddy while she’s helping him put on his shoes.

Beca definitely pretends not to hear  _that_. They definitely can’t afford to have a hyper animal in their house - at least, not for the time being.

 

* * *

 

Teddy’s mood steadily improves as the rest of the school year continues. Beca and Chloe watch his behaviour and they are pleased to notice that he is slowly reverting back to his cheerful self. Beca knows that Chloe had taken it upon herself to go into the school to have a chat with their son’s teacher, citing that Beca didn’t need additional stress on top of work and other things.

It’s a sunny Tuesday morning in April, just a month and a half after Beca and Chloe found that first scrape on Teddy’s hand.

He sits and the kitchen table and pouts before throwing his bag to the side.

“Hey!” Chloe exclaims, kneeling next to him when she hears the clatter of his plastic pencil case. She pulls him closer to her, making sure to maintain eye contact. “What’s wrong?” she asks quietly. “Do you not want to go to school?”

Beca puts her mug in the sink turning to face them. “What’s wrong?” she repeats, moving to pull up a chair so she can sit by them.

“I have show and tell coming up,” Teddy mumbles.

“You love show and tell!” Beca points out, smiling encouragingly.

“I’m going to fail!” he shouts.

Chloe raises an eyebrow at his raised tone. “What are you talking about? You can’t fail show and tell.” She turns to Beca. “Can you?”

Beca shrugs.

“Everybody has been bringing in their pets for show and tell,” he informs them. “Last week, Mary brought in her hamster. The week before, Nicky brought in his cat.”

“That seems irresponsible,” Beca mutters. Chloe nods in agreement.

“I just want ‘em to like me,” Teddy says softly.

Beca thinks her heart shatters right then and there. Her instincts kick in. She can practically feel Chloe’s temper rising. “Hey,” she says softly, reaching out to hold his tiny hand. It still baffles her that this is a human being that Chloe created - a human being that turns to them for love and support. “Hey,” she repeats to get his attention. “We love you so much, okay? You need to know that. There is nothing wrong with you.”

Chloe is quiet for a moment. “I thought you said they stopped,” she murmurs.

“I…I didn’t want to upset you.” His face scrunches up in concentration. “It’s not bad.”

They stay silent for a minute, allowing the quiet family moment to pass over them.

“When are you presenting?” Beca asks, breaking the silence.

“Friday.”

“Well, your mama and I are going to help you, isn’t that right, Chlo?”

“Yeah, we’re going to make it amazing,” Chloe says with determination. “It’ll be so amazing that your friends literally won’t know what to do with themselves.”

“Yeah?” he asks hesitantly.

“Yeah!” Beca exclaims, trying to exude enthusiasm as best as she can.

“Yeah!” he repeats, raising his arms excitedly.

Chloe grins, tapping her fingers on his knees excitedly. “I have so many ideas, little man. Don’t you worry. God, I think I’m more excited about this right now,” she says to Beca.

Beca rolls her eyes good-naturedly. She loves Chloe Beale, certified forever-child.

“And you know what? We’re going to figure something out, even if it means drastic measures.”

“What’s dras…drastic?” Teddy asks, tilting his head.

“It means she’s being dramatic,” Beca chimes in helpfully.

“I wanna be dramatic!” Teddy shouts.

“We’re going to figure this out,” Chloe repeats, tapping her chin. “Even if it means…stealing our neighbour’s dog!”

“Yeah!” Teddy shouts, gleeful excitement in his eyes. “Dog!”

Beca gawks at them, regardless of how much she loves Chloe and Teddy with all her heart, she’s not going to be party to a crime. “We are not going to steal our neighbour’s dog, Chloe,” she hisses.

Chloe waves her off nonchalantly, focusing on zipping up Teddy’s hoodie. “Sure, Beca.”

“What? Chloe?”

It concerns Beca that Chloe immediately jumped to theft to help their son.

She pulls out her phone, making a note to look up Humane Society locations as soon as possible.

 

* * *

 

Later that night, Beca sits up straight in bed, a gasp leaving her lips.

Chloe immediately sits up as well, flicking on her bedside lamp. “What is it? Are you okay?” She moves her hand to Beca’s stomach. “Is it the baby?”

“No - no,” Beca mutters distractedly. “I just…was that all an elaborate ploy to get a dog?”

Chloe’s laughter follows her as she sinks back into a restless sleep.

 


	23. (G) playing hooky: daycare edition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: beca leaving work at lunch and sneaking into daycare after chloe dropped their baby off because she doesn't wanna be without their bb

 

 **word count:** 752

 

* * *

 

Beca hates early morning meetings.

The time is one thing. The other is that she has to miss carpooling with Chloe and Ava. Ava has taken to loudly screaming along with whatever music comes on the radio while Beca and Chloe desperately try to harmonize to salvage the song.

It delights their toddler to no end. 

(Beca can’t wait until Ava develops her musical ear, which is obviously inevitable.)

Beca taps her pen impatiently, wondering when this meeting is going to conclude so she can take her lunch already.

Maybe she’ll just quit. That sounds reasonable enough.

It’s not like Chloe doesn’t have a steady income. Beca would happily be a stay-at-home mom. It was never something she envisioned, but she gets it. She wants to see her baby grow up. She wants to kiss Ava’s still-rosy cheeks and ruffle her brown curls. She wants Ava to smile at her and she wants to blow raspberries in her face. She wants to get home a reasonable time to sing in the kitchen with Chloe and Ava. She wants…

“Beca, where’d you go just now?”

Beca drops her pen. “Sorry, what? I was just…thinking of a new melody for a song I’ve been working on.” She smiles as placatingly as she can at Neil. “Spaced out a little. ‘Sup?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. She notes that he’s gathering up his notebook and pencil. “Always working, huh?”

“Obviously,” Beca agrees softly. She looks at her phone background - an adorable photo of her, Chloe, and Ava cuddled together on a picnic blanket. It’s one of the few nice things Aubrey has ever done for her.

(She’s kidding. Mostly.)

 

* * *

 

When Beca gets in her car, she knows she’s not going to lunch. It’s a beautiful, sunny day out and Los Angeles just survived a heat wave. Beca sees people out on bikes, skateboards, and just walking down the street enjoying their lives.

Still, she doesn’t go to lunch. Instead, she bypasses the take-out places she frequents and drives right on down a few blocks into a less bustling neighbourhood. There, she turns and parks right in front of a short brown building. She smiles at the chalk drawings on the pavement.

“Miss Mitchell, back again?” the receptionist says, smiling knowingly.

Beca blushes but shrugs. “Can I see her?” She pulls a small bag of cookies out of her handbag. “I brought her a snack for later.” She jostles the plastic, trying to look as innocent as possible.

Grace the receptionist smiles and shakes her head. “Okay, but your wife is already here.”

“She is?” Beca asks, just as the door opens and Chloe steps out with Ava on her hip. “Oh,” she states. “Hello.”

“Beca?” Chloe asks just as Ava yells “mommy!” and reaches out for her with grabby hands. Chloe willingly hands her over, but not before stealing a soft kiss from Beca. “What are you doing here, babe?”

It occurs to Beca that Chloe should be at work too. She’s doing a research turn at the zoo for a few weeks. “I could ask you the same question.” She marvels in how soft and warm Ava is. She wonders if all children consistently smell like sunshine and cookies or if this is just unique to their kid because of Chloe’s persistently sunny influence.

Chloe grins, a little sheepishly, a beautiful blush creeping up her cheeks. “I took the rest of the afternoon off. Cashed in a favour with the zoo. They don’t really need me today.”

“I’m on my lunch break,” Beca says distractedly. Ava is tugging at her hair excitedly. “But I think,” Beca murmurs, looking up at Chloe and hugging their daughter closer. “I have everything I need right here. I think the label can do without me for a day.”

Chloe leans in again, this time to peck a squirming Ava on her cheek before tilting her head to kiss Beca once more, softer and gentler than before. Beca sighs happily into the kiss.

Ava pushes her hands on their cheeks, pushing them apart.

As far as Mondays go, this one isn’t the worst one they’ve had.

 


	24. (G) are you going to put this on instagram?? oh my god

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t look at me like that.”

**Summary:**  Beca Mitchell’s social media practices are largely influenced by one Chloe Beale. Est. relationship.

 **Word count:**  973

* * *

 

“You know I steal half my Instagram posts from you, right?” Beca asks, reclining on the sofa. Chloe absently clicks through their Netflix queue with one hand while the other combs through Beca’s hair slowly.

“Yeah, I know. We basically share an account at this point.” Chloe gives up on her search and leans over Beca’s shoulder to look at her phone. “Are you looking at my Instagram for ideas?” She grins slyly. “We could take…” she pauses, glancing around before whispering into Beca’s ear. “Selfies,” she hisses.

She knows how much Beca hates the word (and maybe even the concept).

She isn’t disappointed by a lack of reaction. Chloe laughs when Beca swats at her thigh.

“It’s not my  _brand_ ,” Beca says, semi-seriously.

“No,” Chloe agrees. “Your brand is taking photos of me when I’m not looking.”

“You’re the same way!” Beca exclaims, tilting her head back so she can look at Chloe. Chloe smiles at that, before nodding and leaning in to kiss Beca as best as she can with the awkward angle. Beca squirms, trying to right herself so she can twist and kiss her girlfriend properly. “Mmph,” she grunts, pushing Chloe off her momentarily. She tosses their phones aside. “That’s better,” she whispers, ignoring the clatter of their phones against the wood. She’s too busy focusing on unzipping Chloe’s (stolen) hoodie.

Chloe can’t help but agree with that sentiment.

Their phones lay forgotten on the coffee table.

 

* * *

 

Since they started dating after graduating from Barden, Beca has grown accustomed to Chloe’s persistent usage of social media. While she never completely got used to it throughout University, her manager and publicist both thought it would be a good idea to build a following of some kind online.

It had taken Beca a while to get used to the idea of strangers - fans - following her social media feeds and commenting on every aspect of her life that she chose to showcase. It had taken her even longer to get used to fans commenting on Chloe’s attractiveness and how cute they were as a couple.

“Doesn’t it make you uncomfortable?”

Chloe shrugs. “Not really. I love you and it just happens to show through each photo. If it makes you uncomfortable, stop uploading photos of me, you dork,” Chloe tells her, before pecking her on the nose.

Beca gazes at her in awe, wondering how Chloe always manages to simplify things so easily for her.

Secretly though, Beca is kind of possessive of the way Chloe looks at her - a look that she was only a few years too late to pick up on. She counts her blessings every day that Chloe’s love still shines through in everything she does, but even more so, in the way she smiles or gazes at Beca with nothing but adoration and love in her eyes. 

It’s something that hasn’t changed since their days at Barden.

So, since Beca can’t necessarily control the fact that her fans like to leap onto every one of her posts, nor can she really control her own impulse to take photos of Chloe at any given opportunity, she monitors herself a bit.

It’s simple, really. She does her best to upload photos of Chloe when she isn’t looking directly at Beca or the camera, enjoying the candidness of the shot, but forgoing the intimacy of having Chloe's eyes trained directly on her.

It’s a little nitpicky thing she does, if only to put her own mind at ease.

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t necessarily tell Chloe about it until much later, when Chloe seemingly catches on to her pattern.

“Becs, why don’t you ever upload any photos of me where I’m looking at the camera?” 

Beca chances a glance over at Chloe who is uploading an extremely unflattering screenshot of Beca from one of her talkshow appearances. She rolls her eyes. Chloe’s instagram is a mixture of aesthetic pictures and funny pictures of Beca - something that Beca has only gotten used to. Her publicist loves it - she says it shows that Beca has personality.

“Beca?”

“Oh, uh, sorry, what did you say?” She narrows her gaze before pointing at Chloe’s phone. “I see you, by the way.”

“I gotta deliver for your fans,” Chloe says, feigning exasperation. “They just need their daily dose of my artistry.” Beca scoffs. “Don’t change the subject, by the way.”

Beca sighs. “Look, it’s just...whenever you look at me I...” she feels heat rise up in her neck and cheeks. “I just think about how in love with you I am. And it’s...I don’t know how to explain it. You’ve always just had this way of looking at me.”

Chloe is quiet for a moment, before asking gently, “like what?” 

“Like...like you can’t believe that I’m yours. And that you’re mine.” Beca flushes even more, unsure how she even managed to find the words for that. “It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not,” Chloe disagrees immediately. Beca is about to protest when Chloe continues. “It’s not stupid. It’s exactly how I feel whenever you look at me.”

Beca raises her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Do you know how long I wished you would just ... finally see me? All those years at school. Jesse.” Chloe smiles, a bit sadly this time. It makes Beca instinctively cup her jaw. “I could spend every day just watching you.”

“Same,” Beca breathes. “Ditto.”

Chloe leans into her touch for a moment.

“Is that why you always tell me to not look at you when you take a photo?”

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Chloe only smiles in adoration. “Don’t look at me like that,” Beca mutters, still working through the residual shyness and embarrassment.

“That sounds familiar,” Chloe teases. She laughs before cupping Beca’s jaw. “Just one of many quirks that makes me love you even more,” Chloe says softly, before tilting her head and leaning in for a long, slow kiss.


	25. (T) heartbeat steady; keep your eyes open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Keep your eyes on me.” 

**Summary:**  Five times Beca and Chloe’s eyes meet; five times they realize they’re in love.

 **Word count:**  1,592

 

* * *

 

##  _first_

Chloe Beale has often been told that her eyes are beautiful. Her first boyfriend told her that she had the prettiest eyes in the entire grade, among other things.

Her first college hook-up - a girl with dirty blonde hair and a mischievous smile -  had told her, under the dark lights of a house party, that her eyes were what drew her in from across the room.

She never quite knows how to deal with that - the compliments, the fixation - because they’re just eyes to her.

She never gets the fuss - that is, until she meets Beca Mitchell.

It’s not that Beca immediately falls over her herself for Chloe. In fact, she takes her time, getting used to Chloe’s special brand of affection.

Chloe waits for days when Beca looks straight at her; when she smiles and the corners of her eyes crinkle; when Beca’s eyes change colour under different light.

It’s not that Beca has a rare eye colour or anything like that - they’re just a sharp, piercing, dark blue that draws Chloe in without fail every time.

She can read Beca’s emotions through her eyes easily, something she grows accustomed through over the years.

When she argues with Beca, she sees flashes of anger in her favourite eyes. It makes her stomach clench. She hasn’t quite seen them quite as bad as when they’re arguing at Aubrey’s retreat. When Beca glares straight at her - seemingly just cutting through her with her gaze - all Chloe feels is guilt and despair. It settles somewhere in her throat and stays there.

She feels sick.

She can’t imagine never seeing Beca again or letting the remains of their friendship slip away to nothing. Chloe imagines that she could survive without Beca’s love, but to live without her in her life at all makes Chloe’s chest hurt with an incomparable pain.

Still, she pushes through - she pushes through because she can feel Beca slipping away. She can feel her averting her gaze and desperate attempts to regain that attention and trust only push her further.

She doesn’t want to look into Beca’s eyes and see the beginning of their end, not when she hasn’t seen their entire story play out. There’s no way their story ends like this.

Now, she meets Beca’s gaze over the crackle and embers of the campfire, letting the world fall away for just a moment.

This sensation - the one where they’re the only two people in the world? It’s not new, not by a long shot.

But this the first time that Chloe thinks something truly shifts between them, in the steady way that Beca returns her gaze. The unwavering smile.

The vulnerability in her eyes.

Chloe’s walls have been down for years, but Beca - Beca finally lets her in.

Chloe can only look on, as taken in by Beca’s eyes as she was that very first day.

 

* * *

 

##  _second_

Performing with the Bellas over the years has made Beca less susceptible to nerves. She thinks that she can look out into a crowd steadily and sing confidently. Surely.

Now, Beca’s in Europe again of all places and trying to figure out the rest of her life.

Around her…she sees nothing.

Empty space.

She feels alone…except-

The Bellas are sitting in front of her.

The Bellas, all lined up in the front row, smiling and nodding encouragingly.

Beca makes eye contact with everybody, the assault of memories causing her to grip the microphone just a bit a tighter.

Of course - of course, Chloe is right at the end of the line. Holding down the fort.

Beca’s walls come crashing down.

She knows then that being in love with Chloe is what she needs to channel. She puts it into her performance. She never takes her eyes off Chloe, drawing strength from the unconditional support and outpouring of love she’s received over the years.

She draws strength from Chloe’s equally steady gaze, paired with a tearful smile.

As she opens her mouth to sing for the first time in years without the support of her family, she thinks that maybe she could really do this; she could take on the world, so long as she has Chloe by her side.

Beca looks for her anchors; her favourite pair of blue eyes.

They never waver.

 

* * *

 

##  _third_

“Just - just look at me, Bec,” Chloe whispers, cupping Beca’s cheeks. She forces her gaze to her. “You’ve worked so hard to get here.”

Around them, the atmosphere rises in anticipation of the impending Grammy winner.

“And the Grammy for Album of the Year goes to…”

Beca knows that even if she doesn’t win, she has everything she needs right there. She thinks that Chloe Beale is the best thing to ever happen to her, that she owes her success to this wonderful woman that she gets to call her own. At least, she will - soon.

Beca opens her mouth, on the verge of -

“-Beca Mitchell!”

Chloe’s jaw drops.

Beca’s eyes widen as the camera turns to them. She barely manages to shakily press a quick, desperate kiss to Chloe’s lips, feeling Chloe’s own tears beneath her fingertips before she’s being enthusiastically ushered out of her seat by the surrounding audience.

“I - I don’t know what to say,” Beca mutters, somehow holding a Grammy Award in front of all her peers; in front of the world. “I thought I was ready for this, but I guess I wasn’t.”

She searches for Chloe, somehow still managing to pick her out under the harsh spotlights. She’s crying, nodding encouragingly.

“Chloe,” she says, letting her body move on autopilot. “Chloe, I don’t know where I’d be without you. You…you have consistently made me better my entire life. I have always looked to you for support, for inspiration, and for your kindness and strength. I look at you,” she says, feeling her voice crack. “And all I see is a shitload of unconditional love and it drives me crazy every day when I try to figure out how to love you just as much in return before I realize how easy it is to love you. How easily the world could love you as much as I do. This album is you.”

Beca is more keenly aware of how the small blue box in her pocket presses against her thigh insistently, but she keeps her gaze locked on where Chloe is; on her source of strength and familiarity and love.

“Thank you so much for being my anchor because I think I’d be floating out to sea without you.”

 

* * *

 

##  _fourth_

Chloe’s not sure that she ever takes her eyes off Beca the entire night, from the moment Beca walks down the aisle with her father.

(She thanks God for waterproof mascara.)

From the moment her breath catches to staring straight into Beca’s eyes while she recites her vows, Chloe is taken in. She’s not sure she ever takes a breath again.

Beca smiles as she kisses Chloe for the first time as her honest-to-God wife. She closes her eyes, but only for a brief second because she doesn’t want to miss a single thing now that she’s starting the newest chapter of her life.

When they finally make it out for their first dance together as a married couple, Beca laughs at how eagerly everybody watches them - eyes locked on their every move.

It’s fitting because Beca only has eyes for one person in the room and she doesn’t plan on changing that anytime soon.

She slides an arm around the back of Chloe’s neck, tugging her close so that they’re pressed close together - close enough that she can feel Chloe’s heartbeat against hers.

“Look at us,” Chloe whispers, resting her forehead against Beca’s.

“I am,” Beca murmurs, seeing her entire future reflected through her favourite pair of eyes.

 

* * *

 

##  _fifth_

Chloe’s not sure how they got here. The last few months are a blur and yet, they made it, somehow.

Beca gazes up at her, eyes still bright and vibrant even as nurses fret around her, settling her into the bed.

“Chlo, look at me,” she murmurs. “It’s going to be okay. We’re ready.”

“I can’t believe you’re comforting me,” Chloe says through a laugh. She’s terrified.

She runs through a million nightmares and endings in her mind.

“I’m scared, too,” Beca says softly, sitting up slightly. She ignores the disgruntled expression she receives from the attending nurse when she tugs at the machinery monitoring her. “But we got this.” She holds her fist out for Chloe to bump.

Chloe chuckles. It’s a watery laugh, but she obliges. She likes the way Beca’s eyes sparkle with her own laughter (and tears).

“I love you,” Beca murmurs before leaning back. Her face is flushed and sweaty, but Chloe thinks that Beca only radiates beauty right then and there.

“I love you, too.” She leans over her wife, kissing Beca’s cheek once before tilting her head and kissing her gently on the lips. “We got this,” she repeats, before reaching for Beca’s hand. She lets Beca grip her hand tightly. Firmly.

“Moms, are you ready?” Doctor Harrison calls from Beca’s feet. “Beca, I’m going to need you to push, okay?”

Beca nods. She’s never felt more certain in her life.

Chloe’s gaze never wavers.

 

* * *

 

##  _sixth_

When Amelia Beale-Mitchell opens her eyes, all Chloe and Beca see, beyond the blue, is a world of possibility. The bluest eyes they’ve ever seen. Wells of hope and love ready for them cherish and protect with everything in them.

She looks back, eyes wide open in wonder as her world comes into roaring colour.

 

 


	26. (T) a little bit guarded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so unexpectedly since it was brought to my attention that [Amy Adams and Bryce Dallas Howard might be well-suited to play Chloe’s sisters](https://isthemusictoblame.tumblr.com/post/176457344134/okay-im-late-on-the-whole-casting-thing-but), I couldn’t get it out of my head that Chloe is the baby in this sibling trio + she often lives in her sister’s shadows.
> 
> So here’s a little Bechloe one-shot based on that.
> 
> Enjoy! This was written really quickly, so apologies in advance.

**summary:**  Three times Beca meets Chloe’s sisters and how it makes Chloe feel, after the fact.

 **word count:** 2685

 

* * *

##  ****

##  **_i._ **

Chloe loves her sisters – she does. She loves how crazy they are – though she sometimes hates it when they drive her crazy.

When she goes long stretches of time without seeing them in person, she misses them terribly; she wishes that they stayed in contact more frequently, but the occasional phone call or Google hangout is usually enough to tide them over.

Growing up, she hated living in her sisters shadows. The twelve years between her and her eldest sister meant that they had virtually nothing in common growing up.

Her eldest sister, Alison, is twelve years older. Chloe has one very fond – or not so fond – memory of being almost literally thrown out of her sister’s room when she was five because she had been playing with Alison’s necklaces while she got ready for prom.

It wasn’t fair that just because Blair had been ten at the time, she was more entitled to hang out with Alison.

And by the time Chloe entered high school herself, both her sisters were long gone, having left home to either work or study and finally Chloe felt like she could breathe.

There were benefits to being the youngest in some respects – it meant that her sisters did everything under the sun and it meant that her parents had figured out the whole, well, parenting thing by the time Chloe came around.

She got her pick of clothes from both sisters, which meant that she got a variety of styles and clothes to try on.

She got good (and bad) advice regarding dating, sex, and everything she could possibly want to know.

She also got the brunt of teasing and exclusion, and all the other fun things that she couldn’t quite do because she was never old enough, never tall enough, and never mature enough to appreciate.

(It’s totally unfair because Blair and Alison have a larger age gap than she does with Blair, but Blair still got to do the fun things, simply because Alison wasn’t annoyed at having one sister, but she was a little annoyed at having two sisters.)

Still, she adores her sisters – loves them with everything in her, and she’s fairly certain that they feel the same way.

It’s just – they have a way of inadvertently getting in the way of her relationships, though Chloe hates that she lets it get to her more than necessary.

(She vaguely recalls a high school boyfriend commenting how attractive her sisters were and musing over why they were still single.)

Within all the advice they had given her over the years, there was nothing that really detailed what it meant to fall in love with somebody and they definitely didn’t prepare her for what it meant to fall in love with her grumbly, sometimes-annoying, always-endearing co-captain.

Beca Mitchell is a force of nature – one that swept unexpectedly into Chloe’s life and compelled her to do a double-take. Chloe’s not really sure how she fell in love with Beca, let alone when. It just happened, as slowly as falling asleep – or maybe waking up.

So, she keeps it to herself – just one thing she wants to mull over and enjoy because it’s not like she can do anything, not when Beca is dating (maybe? Maybe not?) Jesse. She neglects to inform her sisters that Beca is maybe the love of her life because it’s quite frankly none of their business.

She lets them poke fun at her for staying back for three additional years at Barden University, gritting her teeth because she doesn’t want to hear whatever judgement they might bestow upon her if she tells them that she’s just kinda, maybe, sort of in love with this dark-haired, blue-eyed girl who enjoys combining songs together in a capella mash-ups.

And she’s not embarrassed of Beca – she never could be.

She’s just…possessive.

**Alison  
** _So excited to see you this week for grad! Congrats, you big baby._

Chloe rolls her eyes.

 

* * *

 

“Allie and Blair are coming over before we head over to campus.” Chloe zeroes in on Jessica munching on chips. “Don’t make a mess,” she warns.

“Who?” Beca asks, fiddling with a pair of earrings. “Who’s coming over?”

The doorbell rings.

“My sisters,” Chloe tosses over her shoulder before rushing to the door. When she flings it open, she’s engulfed in a tight hug and twin screams of delight.

“How did you all manage to come out with red hair,” Stacie deadpans. She peers at them. “I used to think Chloe had a nice shade, but I like yours the best,” she says, pointing at Alison.

“Hey!” Chloe cries. “What the hell?”

Stacie shrugs. Alison laughs. Blair holds Chloe at arms-length, assessing her thoroughly. “Have you eaten?” she asks immediately.

“Yes!” she exclaims, shrugging her hands off. “Hello to both of you,” she says in a more tender tone. She smiles, cuddling into Alison’s side for a hug. “Hi,” she mumbles again, a little shy, when Alison kisses the side of her head.

She’s twenty-five years old and finally about to graduate university, but she still feels like a child whenever she’s with her sisters. It’s both comforting and unnerving on some levels for reasons Chloe can’t quite place.

“Introduce us to your friends!”

Introductions go off without a hitch. Emily is the only one a little shy, but everybody else manages to introduce themselves in a pleasant-enough manner that doesn’t make Chloe want to set herself on fire in embarrassment.

Then, Beca –

“And this is Beca,” Chloe says, conscious of the reverence in her tone. She hopes she won’t get questions about it later, but she can feel Blair’s eyes boring into the side of her head. She ignores her.

“Hello,” Beca says, extremely formally.

Chloe’s eyes swivel slowly towards her.

“Hi,” Alison says, a little slowly like she thinks Beca will spook. “Beca, was it? You’re the co-captain, right?”

“I – yes. Definitely. Co-captaining the Bellas.”

Chloe thinks she might be having an out of body experience. Beca looks flushed, like she’s embarrassed or – or smitten.

Chloe resists the urge to clench her jaw. She clenches her fist instead, thankful for the long sleeves of her gown.

It makes sense, she thinks bitterly. Of course, Beca would have eyes for an attractive older woman. Never mind that Alison is fourteen years her senior.

Chloe kind of wishes she never suggested they come to the Bellas house before convocation.

She thinks she kind of drifts away, outside her mind. She doesn’t want to see whatever Beca’s saying or doing because it only serves to remind her that she could never live up to whatever expectations shine in Beca’s eyes.

Later, when they leave, Chloe avoids eye contact with Alison who stares her down, one eyebrow raised knowingly.

“You didn’t mention you had sisters,” Beca says in a tone that Chloe can’t quite place. It sounds vaguely familiar.

“Yes, I did,” Chloe replies, frowning. She has mentioned her sisters on multiple occasions. “I have one-hundred percent mentioned them. Alison? Blair? Ring a bell?” It’s more sharp than she intends, but Chloe feels like her worlds should have never collided.

“I…sorry,” Beca laughs, a little breathlessly. “You, uh, you definitely did. You just didn’t mention that they’re um, very attractive.”

Everything in Chloe kind of locks up then.

“Don’t tell me you’re crushing on her sisters,” Stacie chimes in from Chloe’s left. “That’s such a cliché.”

“How is it a cliché?” Beca asks immediately, glaring hard at Stacie. “Shut up,” she mutters when Stacie snorts at her reaction.

Chloe notes that Beca doesn’t necessarily deny it.

It suddenly feels stifling hot in her graduation gown. She doesn’t feel like she’s made  _any_ progress over the past four years, let alone the past twenty-five years.

“Let’s just take some photos,” Chloe mutters.

It is truly unfortunate that she loves her sisters dearly because she never expected it would coincide so deeply with the fact of being in love with Beca Mitchell.

 

* * *

##  ****

##  **_ii._ **

Chloe tries not to think about it. It actually doesn’t come up again at all because they’ve somehow wrangled a small apartment together in Brooklyn and they’re sharing a bed and it’s … it’s a relationship, just without the label and the kissing and hand-holding.

Beca remembers to buy her favourite tea and takes her out for dinner occasionally; Chloe saves money to buy new cushions and earpads for Beca’s favourite pair of headphones.

Whenever they fall asleep, they gravitate towards each other, so naturally that it almost makes Chloe want to whisper how much she cares for Beca – how much she loves her – in the early morning sunlight.

But she holds back, for whatever reason she finds. First, it’s that Beca’s still with Jesse. Then, it’s the fact that Beca just broke up with Jesse. Then, it’s that…Chloe doesn’t want to scare Beca away, not when she spent so long just figuring out how to gently chip away at Beca’s walls. She doesn’t want to be on the outside looking in.

It kind of all comes to a head when Blair visits their apartment for a couple days over a weekend in March.

Chloe is delighted – she loves seeing her sister when she can.

Beca is delighted – perhaps more than strictly necessary, Chloe thinks.

It makes Chloe watch the way Beca behaves closely.

There isn’t anything particularly suspicious about her actions, though she does still flush horribly when Blair so much as touches her shoulder or smiles at her.

It’s enough to make Chloe’s protective streak flare up and she scoots her chair closer to Beca and finds more reason to touch Beca’s shoulders when she can.

Blair looks immensely amused and it only makes Chloe want to hit something. Maybe Blair.

By the time the trip is over, Beca manages to only embarrass herself a total of two times. Chloe manages to stop herself from stomping her foot at least ten times.

“You know, if you’re in love with Blair, you should just tell me,” Chloe says when they’re both lying on the pull-out later that night, staring straight up at the ceiling. There’s a weird distance between them, physically and emotionally.

There’s a brief moment of silence and all Chloe can hear is the creaking and clanging of the pipes in their building, but there’s no way it compares to the thudding of her heart as it threatens to burst from her chest. Beca’s silence is ominous.

Finally, Beca exhales slowly. “I’m not in love with your sister,” Beca laughs. “Either of them.” She looks like she kind of wants to say something else, but merely sucks in a deep breath instead.

Chloe’s first instinct is to be offended because why wouldn’t Beca be in love with her sisters? It’s a normal enough reaction – one that Chloe is used to seeing whenever she’s in public with her family.

“Could have fooled me,” Chloe mumbles before she can help herself.

Beca looks mildly alarmed at Chloe’s reaction, like she hasn’t seen this level of animosity directed at her before.

“I…what’s going on?” Beca asks, confused. “I feel like something’s going on here and I’m totally missing it.”

“You’re definitely missing it,” Chloe says, pouting. She turns, facing away from Beca and tries not to cry. She’s not sure where all this overwhelming emotion comes from – it’s like she has this well inside her and it is just threatening to collapse with the weight of how long she has been shouldering this burden inside her.

“Oh God,” Beca says, sounding kind of resigned. She shifts behind Chloe. Chloe thinks that she’s going to get out of bed and go for a walk. Instead, she feels an arm slowly slide across her waist, tugging a little until her back is nestled snugly against Beca’s front.

“What’s happening right now?” Chloe asks lowly, unsure if she can trust her own voice.

“I have something to tell you. It’s kind of a confession.”

Chloe has immediate flashbacks to one of her high school romances – how he had sat her down and confessed that he was only going out with her to get close to her sister. She had primly informed him that he had no chance with either of them after that.

(She’s still a little confused by that because Blair had been well out of high school by that point. Chloe’s not exactly sure what he had been hoping for.)

“What’s up?” Chloe asks, going for casual even if all she wants to do is spin in Beca’s arms and kiss her senseless.

“I’ve been talking to your sisters, actually. About something that’s been on my mind for the past little while. Well before graduation,” Beca says lightly, like she’s talking about the weather. Chloe’s heart plummets. “And, well, it’s mainly Blair because I think Alison thinks I’m some kind of annoying bug she can’t get rid of and that she has better things to do.”

“Sounds about right,” Chloe agrees. “On both counts.”

Beca pinches her side. Chloe squirms, unconsciously pressing further back into Beca, but Beca only tightens her hold and nestles her chin on Chloe’s shoulder. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m in love with you,” Beca says gently.

It hits Chloe in the chest like a sledgehammer crashing through a wall. She chokes, hand flying to clutch at Beca’s forearm. “What did you just say?”

“I said that I’m in love with you.”

“You’re not in love with Blair,” Chloe enunciates slowly.

Beca snorts indelicately. “I’m not in love with Blair. Or Alison. Or Jesse. Or anybody else.” Then, with reverence and gentleness, she says the words that Chloe has only ever wanted to hear directed at her for years. Maybe even before meeting Beca Mitchell. “Just you,” she murmurs.

Chloe spins as best as she can in Beca’s arms and kisses her. She kisses her for the first time – the last first kiss she wants either of them to have – and she revels in how soft Beca’s lips are. How instantly Beca’s arms wrap around her. How Beca moans quietly into her mouth when she unabashedly uses her tongue to pry Beca’s lips apart.

She is so happy that Amy is  _never_  home.

 

* * *

##  **_iii._ **

The next time Beca meets Chloe’s sisters, they’re at Chloe’s parents’ house for Thanksgiving. Beca gets the full experience of meeting Chloe’s family and she looks overwhelmed the moment she sees how many cars are in the driveway.

“God, I can’t believe it took you years to lock that down,” Alison mutters to Chloe. They’re both kind of watching Beca play with Blair’s baby, Jamie. Well, Alison is observing. Chloe is kind of barely holding herself together and threatening to melt into a puddle based on what she’s seeing. “We literally spotted it the moment we walked into your house.”

“Yeah, well,” Chloe says, trailing off. She watches as Beca carefully extracts strands of her hair from Chloe’s niece’s flailing hands. “I thought she had a stupid crush on you. Or Blair.”

“I was the one who messaged her, you know,” Alison says lightly. “I told her that she better treat you right or I’d send somebody after her.”

“You what?” Chloe is in disbelief.

Alison laughs. “I thought you two were dating! It was actually fucking hilarious because she messaged me back saying that she had no idea what I was talking about because you two weren’t even in a relationship and that she was dating somebody else.” She nudges Chloe with her shoulder. “Didn’t we teach you anything?”

“Not really,” Chloe mutters. Still, she can’t fight the smile that threatens to overtake her lips at the thought of how shocked Beca must have been.

“Still,” Alison says, her voice taking on the most affectionate tone Chloe has ever heard in her twenty-seven years of being alive. “I’m so happy for you and I’m glad you’ve found somebody like Beca.”

“Thank you,” Chloe says, wiling herself not to cry. She’s not sure what she’s thanking her sister for, but she feels it from somewhere deep within her. “I love you, you know?”

“I love you, too.”

And, Chloe thinks, she really does.


	27. (T) five times jesse and chloe exist without beca

**_prologue_ **

Jesse isn’t going to lie - he has always thought Chloe Beale was beautiful. Like, almost intimidatingly so, but still approachable, like he could sit down with her and get a beer. Maybe become her best friend.

But he’s dating Beca, and that’s that.

He doesn’t pause to think about why the two are mutually exclusive, only that they are.

 

* * *

****

**_one_ **

“Where’s Beca - did Beca just get into that police car?” Jesse asks, whirling on the closest Bella he can find. Her red hair is up in a bun and she rubs at her throat uncomfortably, a nervous habit, he assumes. He thinks her name is Chloe, but he can’t quite remember her last name. “Chloe, right?”

She nods and glances in his direction. “Yeah. Jesse?” He nods. Something in her expression flickers and suddenly Jesse feels like he’s being assessed somehow. A brief second later and it’s gone, replaced by concern and urgency that Jesse can relate to. “What do we do?”

“We’re not doing anything,” another voice cuts in. Jesse recognizes her as Aubrey, recalling that Beca frequently complained about her. Vaguely, he tries to remember if Beca ever talked about Chloe, even though Chloe seems wholly familiar to him. Like he  _should_  know who she is.

“We have to, Aubrey,” Chloe says, voice bordering on a whine. “Aubrey, she’s-”

“I’ll go to the station,” Jesse offers.

Chloe opens her mouth, maybe to protest or maybe to thank him. He never finds out, because Aubrey smiles gratefully at him and tugs at Chloe’s arm.

“Fine, but we’re waiting up for her,” he hears Chloe telling Aubrey.

Briefly, as he’s looking up the school directory to find Beca’s father’s number, he thinks that Chloe has the bluest eyes he has ever seen, though it sounds familiar, like maybe Beca was the one to tell him that.

He shakes his head.

 

* * *

**_**** _ **

**_**_two_ **   
_ **

Chloe’s a little drunk, but she knows where she’s going.

“You,” she states, pointing at Jesse. She’s still kind of high off their Nationals win and she thinks that she kind of wants to rub it in Jesse’s face, but when he turns to her, wide smile on his face, she can’t help but think he won anyway.

“Me,” he repeats. “Hi, Chloe.”

A million things run through her mind. 

And yet-

“Be kind to her,” she mumbles, focusing suddenly on her shoes. Somehow, she feels like she’ll give it all away - the secret she held so close to her heart all year.

Jesse doesn’t say anything for a long while - though maybe the time seems to trickle slower when you’ve inadvertently put your entire heart on the line.

“You know I will,” he says, finally.

It’s just, Chloe isn’t going to be around for the next three years, so she wants to make sure Beca is going to be fine; that Beca is going to be  _happy_.

She just wants Beca to be happy.

 

* * *

**_**_**** _ ** _ **

**_**_**_three_ **   
_ ** _ **

“Jesse!”

It’s a familiar voice and Jesse startles upon hearing it, even though she’s walking right towards him. 

Chloe, unaccompanied by Beca - a rarity over the years he has known Chloe (the years that have coincided with dating Beca, though he has rarely spent time with Chloe by herself). 

“ _Where_  is Beca?” Chloe is asking, flanked by other Bellas. It’s an honest question, but Jesse feels a small sense of pride knowing that he knows where Beca is - knows where she’s been all day - because he’s the one Beca’s dating and he’s the one-

The surprising possession and jealousy that rises in him makes him lean back a little because he still finds it unfamiliar that it’s Chloe who incites this in him.

“I thought she was with you,” Jesse says in return, adopting an appropriately incredulous expression to fix on Chloe.

“I thought she was with you,” Chloe echoes back. The exchange makes them both take pause, like they can’t quite believe how surreal it is, being there without Beca between them to mediate.

Jesse sometimes feels like he has never really  _seen_ Chloe, but he sees her clearly enough now, by herself, as pretty as ever and only concerned about Beca’s whereabouts.

It shouldn’t make him nervous - and it  _doesn’t_ , truly.

 

* * *

****

**_four_ **

“Make sure she’s okay,” he says, a little hoarsely.

All Chloe can do is breathe over the phone because Beca is a mess in her arms, crying into her lap.

“Okay,” she replies, equally quiet. “You know I will.”

He laughs then, a little watery, and a little harshly. It makes her flinch; it makes her rub a soothing hand over Beca’s back. 

“I know,” is all he says.

Chloe doesn’t bother asking him what he means and Jesse doesn’t bother clarifying; they know.

 

* * *

****

**_five_ **

When Jesse runs into Chloe, it’s at a bar in New York City of all places. He’s working on his latest film project and he just finished up a big meeting with the executive producers. 

He hasn’t necessarily thought about Beca in a few years. They reached an agreement as to what the terms of their friendship would be and he has only just (re-)added her on Facebook. He sees that she flies between Los Angeles and Manhattan often and that she’s enjoying her own slice of fame as a music producer, like she always dreamed.

Chloe, he recognizes immediately. Mostly because he sees her in a lot of Beca’s photos with the other Bellas.

“Chloe!”

He doesn’t mean to yell, but he startles her enough to make her spill a little of her drink on the counter. She smiles apologetically at the bartender and wipes it with a napkin before she spins on her seat to face him. 

“Jesse!”

Tentatively and a little awkwardly, she reaches out for a hug, which he returns. The last time they talked - well, he tries not to think about it too much. Not so much that it still hurts him, but it’s that his lingering curiosity still nags at him. He’s as much curious as to the outcome of Chloe’s story as much as he is about Beca’s story.

“How are you?” he settles on asking, considering it safe.

Chloe smiles at him, tipping her drink in his direction. “I’ve been doing alright. Still in school, so.”

“Vet school, right?”

“Yeah, it’s…it’s really different.” Chloe doesn’t look too displeased by her own statement, so Jesse doesn’t push it. “Well,” Chloe says quickly. “How about you? I saw the two short films you put out last year. They were amazing and I’m so happy for you that they were accepted to the festivals.”

He blushes, mostly because Chloe has such an easy way of becoming everybody’s friend. 

“Yeah, I…” he rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “I can’t believe that I get to do what I love most days. I know I wanted to score soundtracks and stuff, but being able to work on films at every level…I can’t believe that I was even given the opportunity.”

Chloe grins at him. “You’re very talented, you know.”

He tilts his head, smiling in return. “Well, I…” He trails off because he’s dying to ask.

So he does.

“How’s Beca?”

Chloe’s expression doesn’t falter. “Oh, she’s - well, she’s actually  _here_ , so you could totally ask her if you want.”

Jesse can’t even get a question out.

Like a movie all at once, Jesse feels a presence approaching him from behind. Except, she doesn’t move to face him at all, instead making a beeline straight for Chloe.

He recognizes Beca immediately - the way she moves and the (comparatively) new confidence she exerts. She slides a hand around Chloe’s waist and tilts her head up for a kiss that can only be described as anything but chaste.

He will always love Beca to some extent, but he realizes that he has come to love Chloe too. Mostly because of how intertwined their lives have been.

He is so happy for them.

Somehow, Jesse feels that this is oddly poetic - oddly fitting - that no matter what, even when he and Chloe have shared their own moments in the past, their common thread was - and always will be - Beca.


	28. (G) supporting role

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Well, yell. Scream. Say anything."

**Summary:**  Beca breaks up with Jesse. Jesse-centric. Set between PP2 and PP3.

 **word count:**  1.4k

 

* * *

 

There is fear in her eyes.

That’s his first thought and it comes to a halt in his mind, making him pause. She should never, ever be afraid of him.

“C'mere,” he mumbles, before crushing her into his chest.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing because even the movies didn’t quite prepare him for the sinking feeling in his chest. He’s comforting his now ex-girlfriend after she broke up with him. She spoke the words into existence.

(He should have seen it coming in all honesty. They were never going to work the moment Beca’s eyes flickered across the stage, landing on her red-headed best friend before finally settling on Jesse.

Still, a part of Jesse holds on to that fact – the fact that Beca had chosen him.)

For now – since he knows these thoughts will plague him later – he knows two things with certainty: first, that Beca could probably really use a hug right now (even if she’d never ask for one personally), and second, that there is no way he can have this conversation – or any conversation at all – if he catches sight of that completely devastated expression on her face.

It’s not often that Beca lets an outpouring of emotion out to show on her face – that’s more of a Chloe Beale thing, if Jesse’s going to be honest. However, having dated Beca Mitchell for a few years, Jesse has been privy to a number of ups and downs.

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he promises. He’s not sure who he’s talking to, really, because Beca is visiting Los Angeles and they’re sitting out in the sunshine. He had been enjoying his iced coffee and he had just turned on his phone to show Beca a funny work email.

Then Beca had heaved a sigh and startled him by crying.

Now, he’s seated next to her, they’re still in public, and he’s not really sure anything prepared him for this at all.

“Let’s just…take a moment,” he assures her, once her breathing kind of evens out.

Beca tenses in his arms and immediately pushes a little at his chest, shuffling backwards in her seat, though she doesn’t immediately shrug his arms from around her. “God,” she mutters. “I’m fucking sorry,” she says, hastily swiping at her eyes.

He laughs breathlessly, though there’s nothing funny about this, nothing at all. Maybe it’s a little funny that Beca chose this moment to swear.

Her echoing laugh is hollow sounding and muffled in his chest a little bit. To Jesse’s surprise, she lets him hold her, and even more surprising, she slides her arms upward so that she’s hugging him in return.

After a moment’s silence, she shuffles backwards completely and twists in her seat to face him head-on. Jesse watches Beca curiously because her face is a little red, her hands are clasped, and she averts her eyes just off to the side of his face.

“What’s going on?” he asks slowly, still concerned even though Beca completely just tilted his world.

“Well,” she says, gesturing, a bewildered expression on her face. ”Yell, scream, say something. Anything.”

It’s resigned, with a hint of pleading. It startles Jesse because it’s about the last thing he wants to do.

(All of this is made easier because in his mind, they broke up long ago. So long ago that the hurt has ebbed to gentle waves as opposed to the crushing hurt he had felt back then.)

“I’m not going to yell,” he says softly. “I…” he trails off awkwardly.

(Oddly, what flashes through his mind is a vivid memory of him saying “You think I’m mad because you yelled?” and he briefly wonders if that would be less painful for both of them if he did.)

“We don’t have to talk.” Beca says it because she has no idea what else she can say. She kind of just wants him to…tell her what she needs to do.

(Beca has limited experience with break-ups. The only real vivid memory is the yelling and shouting that happened while her father packed his bag, red-faced and upset.

Her mother had cried.

He had yelled.

Then they both split Beca’s life in half.)

Jesse shakes his head slowly, still carefully watching the young woman in front of him. They’ve grown up so much in the years.

Of course, his mind helps him out a little bit.

It’s like there’s this literal montage – akin to a movie - of everything she’s ever said to him about Chloe Beale. It’s like a puzzle slotting together neatly, and he sort of watches the puzzle pieces all go together in his head. It’s with startling clarity that this isn’t surprising to him at all because he had been watching all the pieces fall into place over the years anyway.

He had been naïve enough to think that Beca would stay.

Beca swallows. She’s not crying; she’s just kind of numb. She broke up with her sweet, caring boyfriend because she  _only just_  recently admitted her more-than-friendly feelings for her best friend to herself.

Her best friend who shares a bed with her in Brooklyn.

It’s a wonder that Jesse didn’t absolutely hate her, but all Beca sees is sympathy shining in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out again. “I really…tried,” she says stiltedly.

It’s so painful-sounding that his entire chest nearly caves in. Beca looks like she’s a little angry at herself for everything, which makes Jesse more upset.

“Hey,” he chides gently, leaning back a little because he thinks she needs to see his eyes when he says this. “We don’t have to talk about this. We can go home, if you want. I’m not gonna force you to tell me anything you don’t want me to know…I just…”

Perhaps Beca would not take it very well if he said “you look scared” even if it’s true and it shines so obviously on her face.

“I don’t want to walk away from you right now,” he says tightly. “I know you’re hurting for some reason and even if it has nothing to do with me, I don’t think you should be alone right now. I want to know how to…” he sucks in air through his teeth, watching her expression. “…help?” he offers, unsure.

“You don’t have to help me, Jesse. I don’t exactly know how to talk about… this.” Beca heaves another breath. “I’m feel like I could be happy for the first time in a long time.”

He sees an opportunity, as painful as it may be. “She makes you happy?”

Beca’s breath catches because the way Jesse says “she” is somehow incredibly tender. Incredibly telling.

Still, all her defenses shoot back up as every moment flashes through her mind. Was she too transparent? Was she so obvious, all those years ago? Did Jesse know their relationship was a sham? “I didn’t cheat on you,” is what she says first, followed by a wince because Jesse’s expression falters and he looks quickly at his shoes.

Jesse was safe. It was why Beca had chosen him.

Chloe was like the hint of sunshine after a storm. Beca could never be certain if the storm would ever dissipate however.

For that reason, however, Chloe wasn’t something to be hidden away. It’s something that Beca grapples with consistently. Chloe made her feelings abundantly clear, then backed off respectfully the moment Beca had adamantly said she chose Jesse.

And yet, Beca feels such hollowness with Jesse, knowing that she’s refusing to bask in the sunlight Chloe offers.

So, she’s going to take this opportunity, handed on a silver platter by the boy she once thought she loved. Or at least thought she could love.

This is where it starts – where her first breath of fresh air breaks open.

“She really does, Jesse.” It’s quiet, but perfectly clear in the heavy silence that had fallen between them.

And finally –  _finally_  – Jesse feels that gush of wind – the wind associated with a door slamming shut for good. “That’s good,” he says quietly. “All I’ve ever wanted is to see you smile.”

Beca blinks, wondering how she got so lucky to find the most amazing people at Barden. Now, she’s sitting across from the boy who fought for for her heart in a coffee shop in Los Angeles.

She softens. “Go ahead. Ask me.”

“Are you in love with Chloe?” he asks, knowing the answer.

He has no idea what’s going to happen next. He has no idea whether Beca will return to Brooklyn and pursue a relationship with Chloe. He has no idea whether Beca will leave tonight or tomorrow.

Just that Beca left long ago, and he’s less sad than he expected he would be.

(He has always known, maybe.)

And when she answers “yes” with certainty and bright eyes, it’s the clearest they’ve both ever seen each other.


	29. (T) this life, what if it’s you and me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: i missed something, didn’t i?

**summary:** Chloe’s wedding day. 

 **word count:** 2.7k

(title from “crowded places” by banks) 

* * *

 

_“Are you really going to try dating him?”_

_Piercing blue eyes search her own, inquisitively. The question, innocent on its face, hangs above them._

_Beca fears she might have revealed too much, far too soon. She never planned on revealing anything at all._

_“Why do you ask?”_

_Hanging there in the precipice, always between something more and something that resembles nothing at all, Beca turns from the crossroads._

_“No, I…no reason. I’m happy for you, Chlo. I swear.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“Ugh,” Beca groans, burying her face into her pillow. Somewhere, her alarm rings, likely knocked off her bedside after the previous night’s drunken activities. She has vague memory of how she stumbled home after the bar, but beyond that, nothing stands out with startling clarity. Or her head is doing a bang-up job of censoring her memories for her.

 _That’s fine,_  Beca thinks.  _One less problem to deal with._

One and a half years later and the question still haunts her. Both questions haunt her: one for revealing her innermost secrets, and the other for providing an opportunity which she decided to avoid.

She still thinks about asking Chloe that question at all, but she had to know. She wonders what would have happened if she never asked Chloe at all – or, maybe, if she never turned the corner at that moment to see Chloe firmly in a liplock with Chicago.

Now, all she knows is that Chloe wanted – Chloe chose Chicago – and that was all the certainty Beca needed.

That was it. Chloe didn’t want her then and definitely not now – not while she runs herself ragged trying to prepare for a wedding to end all weddings (as per Aubrey, who is Chloe’s maid of honor).

When Beca first received the wedding invite, she had locked herself in her apartment, too shocked to even call somebody to talk about it. At least, in her own home, she could cry about it and drink as much as she needed to without judgment from prying eyes.

Beca preferred the solitude. She still does.

But,  _God_ , did it hurt.

It still does.

 

* * *

 

Beca pours herself the largest possible mug of coffee available and inhales the aroma greedily trying to wipe the ebbs of sleep from her mind.

She figures she needs as much help as she can get, considering she has to go to Chloe’s honest-to-God wedding today.

It’s today.

Her traitorous mind tiredly runs through the same routine: every moment she shared with Chloe in school, every crackle of chemistry, he sly glances and soft touches that lingered just a bit too long…Beca always thought they probably didn’t mean anything, but a small part of her hoped, while a larger part of her ignored out of fear that she was reading too much into it.

The fear was temporary, fleeting.

Now, the smaller part of her – the one that held so much hope – is permanently crushed at the confirmation that Chloe didn’t want her at all.

A heartbroken sob escapes and Beca hastily swipes at the lone tear that escapes her eye. She quickly leans heavily on the counter and breathes out through her mouth for a few moments, applying pressure to her eyes. “Stop,” she mumbles.

_“You mean the world to me, Beca. I would love if you were my maid of honor.”_

“Stop,” she whispers again. “Please, stop.”

_“…I can’t…”_

She has made so many mistakes in her life.

She can only learn to live with them.

 

* * *

 

Beca is startled out of the a lazy mix she had been working on by a series of short, determined knocks on her door. Glancing at her watch, she groans.

She’s definitely late for something per Aubrey’s detailed schedule. She just can’t be bothered.

Five quick strides and she rips open the door, not wanting to hear Aubrey’s tirade or recital of events for the day.

She doesn’t need to be reminded.

“What do you…” Her voice cuts off abruptly as she quickly takes in biggest, most expressive pair of blue eyes she had ever seen, eyes that stare back at her in surprise and shock.

“Beca,” Chloe says softly.

Beca swallows. “Why are you here?”

“To see you,” Chloe answers quietly as she takes in Beca’s bedraggled state. She notes the redness around Beca’s eyes as well and takes a deep breath to steady herself, feeling something in her chest respond in kind to Beca’s evident distress. “Beca, what’s wrong?”

Chloe tries to come up with a reason why Beca is so upset, but every reason seems crazier than the last.

When Aubrey noted that Beca declined the breakfast/brunch she had prepared, Chloe had been worried and ducked out early, citing a family emergency.

It isn’t a lie exactly – Beca is family. She always will be.

“Well, here I am,” Beca mutters, ignoring the second question.

“Uh, yeah,” Chloe says, for once at a loss for words. Concern and sadness rise up in her as she takes in Beca’s shattered state, though she notes at the back of her mind that Beca still looks beautiful. “You can talk to me, Bec,” Chloe says, adopting a gentler tone. She hesitates in the doorway, glancing at Beca meaningfully, nearly begging to be let in.

Beca barely resists from rolling her eyes. “In or out, Chloe. Just shut the door behind you.” She walks back into her living room and sits on the couch where she had been perched earlier.

Chloe silently follows Beca into the apartment, closing the door after herself. “Thank you.”

Beca scrubs her face with her hands, buying some time so she doesn’t lash out at Chloe. When she looks up at Chloe again, all she sees is love and a gentleness that only breaks her heart even more. She scrapes at the million tiny pieces of her heart and holds them protectively. “What do you want, Chloe?”

“Aubrey was concerned that-” Chloe swallows at the lie. “No, sorry.  _I_  was concerned that something happened to you. After last night-”

Beca pauses. “What happened last night?” she asks slowly. A funny sensation rises up in her throat as the faintest of memories assaults her senses.

_“God, your voicemail again.”_

“You called me.”

_No._

“I didn’t,” Beca replies immediately. Instinctively.

_“Don’t marry him, Chloe. Please. Please, I’m begging now. I don’t know what else to do.”_

“Fuck,” she mumbles one the memory hits her at full force with startling clarity.

Chloe looks stricken, hovering nervously by the end of the couch. “Beca, why?”

“Why what?” Beca asks tiredly. There are too many questions that require answers and Beca has long run out of responses.

The quiet question spurs Chloe forward and she steps just beside Beca. Their legs could touch ever so slightly. Beca can feel the warmth radiating from Chloe’s body. Chloe’s question, however, sends a chill down her spine. “I…I missed something, didn’t I?”

Beca shakes her head and runs a hand through her hair. She needs a fucking shower. “It doesn’t matter, Chloe.”

“It does,” Chloe pushes, dropping to her knees by the couch. “Beca, please. There was a reason you called me last night. Last night of all things. There was something you needed to say to me.”

Beca thinks she’s said everything she could possibly say.

(But she knows that’s a lie. There’s so much more.)

“You’re marrying Chicago today, Chloe,” Beca mutters. Chloe clamps her mouth shut, in the middle of protesting. “You’re marrying him and that’s that, isn’t it? There doesn’t need to be anything more to it. There isn’t anything more to it,” Beca stresses. She picks up her headphones from the table. “I’m busy. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“But you don’t want me to marry him,” Chloe says, light strain in her voice. “You said so yourself last night.”

Beca grits her teeth. “I was  _drunk_.”

“Why?”

“Why was I drunk?”

Chloe’s patience thins. “Why don’t you want me to marry him?”

_God, Chloe is fucking persistent._

Beca’s closes her eyes, not wanting to see Chloe’s fucking light beam eyes directed on her. “It doesn’t matter, Chlo.” Even the nickname makes her heart clench.

“It does matter because you matter to me, Bec. I want to know what you think.”

“No, I don’t,” Beca mutters. “No, you don’t,” she adds, hearing Chloe’s sharp inhale.

Chloe thinks of the girl she met all those years ago – the one with the quick wit and breathtaking sarcasm. It felt refreshing to see somebody who looked straight at her and saw her for everything she was – faults and all. Beca had been exactly what she needed and Chloe hadn’t needed anything more for almost ten years.

For ten years, she had waited silently, wondering if maybe Beca felt something more for her.

Until finally she had enough.

(Most days she thinks of Beca and how she could have never had Beca anyway. She mutes her voice of reason – oddly a voice that sounds like Aubrey’s voice – and goes on with her day. At least Chicago wanted her and wanted to marry her and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

Chloe thinks her own cowardice has less to do with it all. She hopes, at least. She always hopes.)

Seeing Beca this distressed, the tiny ember of hope flares to life again, paired neatly alongside Chloe’s own pain at seeing Beca so hurt.

She needs to know if Beca wants her.

She has to know because she feels like she missed something crucial along the way.

“Yes, I do. I want to know why. Please tell me what I missed.” Chloe murmurs, finally giving into her desire to reach out to Beca. She puts a hesitant hand on Beca’s knee, wondering if Beca will lash out, but she knows that Beca wouldn’t do anything that could hurt her. She rubs a thumb over smooth skin, marveling briefly at how soft Beca’s skin is.

A small tremble runs through Beca’s body.

“Chlo, stop,” Beca says, finally pushing Chloe’s hand away.

“Please,” Chloe whispers. “Help me understand.”

Beca can’t do it. She refuses.

To put voice to the words…there would be no going back after that. For as much as she wants to hold Chloe and kiss her and claim her as her own like she so desperately wants, she can’t.

She can’t.

“Don’t,” Beca chokes out. The hand on her leg refuses to be displaced. “Please just go.”

Chloe’s heart thuds at the utter devastation evident on Beca’s face and she pushes herself up off the floor to daringly sit directly in front of the brunette on the couch. She takes a quick breath before reaching out for Beca delicately. She wonders where she can touch Beca, finally settling on her shoulder, then her neck, letting her fingers skate lightly across Beca’s neck until she is able to thread her fingers through soft hairs. She squeezes Beca’s knee encouragingly with her other hand. “Look at me. You can trust me.”

Beca shakes her head. “I can’t,” she says very quietly.

“You can,” Chloe murmurs, hurt rushing through her at the thought of Beca not being able to trust her, even if she’s not sure what Beca responding to. “Come on, Bec. Look at me, please.”

While she was certain that her heart couldn’t break any more, hearing that nickname fall from Chloe’s lips so tenderly completely breaks her resolve. She inhales deeply, finally forcing herself to look at Chloe’s eyes. Big blue eyes – soft affection, quiet longing – stare back at her imploringly.

“Hey, you,” Chloe murmurs. “There you are.” She smiles at Beca in a reassuring way before she reaches for Beca’s hand to give it a light squeeze. Beca’s eyelids flutter as they naturally grow to hold hands delicately, making the smile on Chloe’s face widen. “Why?”

“Why are you so insistent about this?” Beca asks in quiet defeat as she stares resignedly into Chloe’s bright blue eyes, now glistening more with unshed tears. “Why does it matter?”

Chloe has long known that Beca’s stubborn streak often won out. If Beca, in this moment, chooses to stay silent, Chloe knows she has no chance. But she feels a crack in Beca’s façade. It’s as big as the crack in Chloe’s restraint, so she finally lets go. “I need to know if you feel this too.”

Beca startles, her leg twitching as if she’s barely restraining herself from jumping up from the couch. “Chloe…”

She doesn’t need to ask what  _‘this’_  is. She knows because it bubbles up in her chest, out of her control.

“Please, Beca,” Chloe murmurs, scooting forward she’s pressed closer to Beca’s leg. She tilts her head so she’s facing Beca head-on and she sucks in a breath at the intimacy of their positions. They’re so close that she can count Beca’s eyelashes. She reaches up tentatively with her hand to trace over Beca’s lips with her finger.

(It is fitting – so fitting – that Chloe finds herself on her knees in front of Beca Mitchell, asking for something – anything – to make her stay. She just wants to stay.)

The feeling of Chloe’s finger on her lips is her downfall. “I feel it. I feel it all so much. These feelings for you,” she murmurs. Chloe’s wandering cradles her face tenderly and she can’t help but to turn into Chloe’s gentle touch, hastily soaking in all the warmth and committing the feeling to memory.

“Me too,” Chloe whispers, stroking Beca’s cheek with her thumb.

_Soft._

“Oh, Beca,” she breathes out and watches Beca’s eyes flutter shut, concealing her favorite blue for just a moment.

Uncaring and no longer able to restrain herself, she wraps her arms around Beca’s shoulders, pulling her into an embrace. The naturalness of their positions however, sends warmth and happiness through Chloe’s body as Beca’s entire body seems to melt into her own.

“That’s what you missed,” Beca murmurs in a small, broken voice as she wraps her arms around Chloe’s waist to holds her close. She wonders if this is the last time and inhales a little greedily before pressing her lips against Chloe’s neck.

Chloe’s hand continues to stroke soothingly up her back and neck, lulling Beca into a peaceful state. It sends pleasurable tingles up her spine and she shivers, pressing another, firmer kiss against Chloe’s neck. It’s not quite the most comfortable hug due to their positions on the couch, but Beca is reluctant to let go. She can’t let go.

Chloe whimpers quietly at the sensation of Beca’s lips against her neck and gently urges Beca backwards. “Beca…”

“Don’t marry him, Chloe.”

An echo of the previous night’s drunken voicemail, but this time with sober clarity.

“Why?” Chloe asks before she can stop herself.

Beca smiles, seeing the truth shining in Chloe’s eyes. Still, she finally puts her entire heart on the line. “Because I love you. I love you and I swear to you that I will do everything within my power to make you happy. Let me love you – let me just show you how - and, God, please say that you’ll love me in return.”

Chloe thinks she should say something in return, but all she feels is a sob bubbling up from between her lips. She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes and she blinks back her own tears of disappointment, not quite believing that Beca has managed to render her speechless.

Instead, she shakes her head, reaching up to pull Beca down for a kiss, heavy with both joy and relief. It is sweet, lingering, and soft as Beca’s hands come up to tangle in her hair.

I _love you, too._

Chloe exhales shakily, letting Beca rest her forehead against hers once they pull apart. A light, pleased blush tints both their cheeks as Beca’s thumb traces over her cheekbone so tenderly that it makes Chloe want to cry. “Don’t marry him,” Beca says softly, almost like an echo of a distant dream.

“I won’t,” Chloe responds, finally.

Tears spring to Beca’s eyes and she tugs Chloe up so that they’re both sitting on the edge of the couch. “Are you in love with me, too?”

The ‘too’ isn’t lost on Chloe and she laughs a little breathlessly, wondering how her day turned out this way.

“I always have been, Beca.”


	30. (T) the adventures of unpacking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “well this is awkward”

**summary** : Beca and Chloe are moving in together. Aubrey, Amy, and Chloe’s parents are helping them on move-in day.

 **word count** : 2.5k

fulfilled for [prompt 35](https://isthemusictoblame.tumblr.com/post/181565070739/prompt-list): “well this is awkward”

 

* * *

 

Beca is content.

Beca is content at the moment because there are few things in this world that amuse her more than Aubrey attempting to do something and failing. It’s all in good fun though. She loves Aubrey and has grown to love Aubrey through everything. She stops unpacking for a moment, tilting her head as she looks out into the living room from her vantage point in the kitchen. Aubrey is staring at the pile of unassembled furniture around her, looking like she was the hurricane that swept through the living room.

Currently, the only pieces of usable furniture available are the couch and the coffee table and the couch came assembled. The coffee table was a gift from Chloe’s parents and Beca got the wonderful show of watching Chloe’s arms flex thanks to her sleeveless shirt as she carried the table into the apartment.

“What are you doing?” Chloe asks, holding a small mountain of bowls. Beca blinks and quickly takes the top of half of the bowls in fear that Chloe might drop them.

Quickly putting the bowls on the appropriate shelf, she turns back to Chloe. “I’m watching Aubrey struggle at IKEA furniture. This is like a NatGeo special.”

“You’re so mean,” Chloe says with amusement coloring her tone. She tapers off into a giggle and turns back to their mountain of boxes.

“It’s not mean!” Beca exclaims. “I just…love it when Aubrey sucks at something,“ Beca whispers.

Despite herself, Chloe grins at her before looking over her shoulder at Aubrey – her best friend – and she can’t help but laugh because Beca is right. Chloe had been content living with Aubrey for the past five years, but she has grown to know a lot about Aubrey’s capabilities. While generally able to do nearly anything she set her mind to, Aubrey really did struggle with putting furniture together.

Amy emerges from the bathroom wearing elbow-length rubber gloves and carrying a bucket of cleaning supplies.

“Did you finish cleaning the bathroom already?” Aubrey asks, standing up and wiping the sweat from her brow.

Amy’s eyebrows rise. “No, I thought you were going to do it.”

“Then why are you just carrying the cleaning supplies around?”

Beca laughs softly while slicing through the tape of another box. Chloe nudges her with her elbow, but Beca catches the equally amused smile on her face.

“Shhh,” Chloe hushes, nodding towards where Aubrey is standing right in the middle of a pile of wood and nails, looking nowhere near done with the shelf. Beca watches Aubrey fiddle with two pieces that aren’t supposed to go together at all before she huffs in frustration – in a way only Aubrey can – and throws it into another pile of growing pieces.

Amy wanders over to them, sitting at the kitchen table.

“Who gave her that job in the first place?” Chloe asks when Amy sits down. “I already told you that Aubrey didn’t know how to put shit together, but neither of you believed me.”

“Uh, pretty sure she gave herself that job,” Amy points out, while Beca nods in agreement.

“Are either of you going to help her?”

She receives two simultaneous head shakes in the negative.

Chloe snorts and puts down the dishware she had been wiping down. “Lazy,” she murmurs. She moves around Beca, but not before holding her waist and kissing her messily on the cheek. “I’ll be back.”

Amy gracefully waits until Chloe is out of earshot before she snickers. “You two are disgusting.”

Beca flushes. “We’re not. You’re just terrible.”

They watch as Chloe tentatively steps into the living room, asking if Aubrey wants some help. It startles her concentration and she drops the plank she had been holding, causing it crash against the floor.

Beca snorts, unable to stop herself while Amy quickly covers her own mouth. Aubrey’s eyes swivel towards them quickly, forcing them to busy themselves with their own work while Chloe’s calming tone washes over them all.

Beca has to admit that watching Chloe placate a frustrated Aubrey is an adorable sight. Like a soft puppy trying to cheer up a pricklier, moodier, larger puppy.

“I’m going to help Chloe,” Beca says. “Are you okay in here by yourself?”

“Of course,” Amy responds, looking mildly offended. “I don’t need supervision.”

Beca decides not to grace that with a response and quickly makes her way out of the kitchen. She was just excited to move in with her girlfriend. She should have expected that their friends would only bring chaos and drama.

She wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey,” she greets. “I thought I’d come help you,” Beca says to Chloe. Chloe smiles gratefully while Aubrey’s eyes narrow even further.

“If you don’t want my help, Beca, I can easily leave.”

Beca’s eyes widen, both in amusement and surprise. “Of course I want your help. Just - unpack in the kitchen while I help Chloe.”

Instead of acquiescing, Aubrey scoffs. “As if you’re going to get any work done. You two are insatiable.”

Chloe snickers while Beca gawks. “We’re not going to…what the fuck? Chloe’s parents are here. Why would we-?”

“She wasn’t talking about sex, babe,” Chloe says once she recovers.

Aubrey looks mildly nauseous. “I simply meant that you two are always flirting with each other.”

“Then why not just say that?” Beca mutters.

Aubrey dusts her hands off on her pants. “At least I won’t have to listen to the two of you having sex anymore,” Aubrey mutters pointing between Beca and Chloe. “You two are  _not_ quiet.”

Beca would laugh because Aubrey’s expression is hilarious, but Chloe’s father chooses that moment to walk in balancing a box of pizza and a six-pack of Sprite. The brief silence that follows is only saved by Chloe being completely unphased and leaping up to help her father with his purchases.

“I thought you guys would like some snacks,” Henry Beale says lightly, though Beca can feel his eyes trained on the back of her neck. “Some sustenance for all the hard work you’re doing.“

Chloe smiles and squeezes his arm. “Thank you.”

“Well, that was awkward,” Aubrey says, smirking at Beca once Henry turns the corner to find his wife. She flips open the box that Chloe sets on the coffee table – the only current available surface in the apartment.

“That wasn’t awkward. You’re just making it awkward. He knows we have sex,” Beca says boldly – bolder than she feels, anyway.

Amy grins – a grin that Beca catches the moment she comes into the living room and Beca feels her heart sink. “Does he know you have sex loudly though?”

Beca ends up being the only one not laughing.

It’s not her fault that her girlfriend is ridiculously good in bed. She’s not going to apologize for that.

Thankfully, Chloe settles on the ground next to her and tilts her head for a quick kiss. “You have nothing to embarrassed about, Bec.”

If possible, Beca turns as red as the pepperoni on the pizza. She quickly ducks her head and focuses on eating, as opposed to the sound of her friends laughing around her.

Aubrey laughs, but Beca thinks privately that Aubrey has nothing to laugh at. It was usually Aubrey’s fault that she tended to be home at all whenever Chloe and Beca made it specifically clear that they would be around.

“Oh, I’m not” Beca finally says, clearing her throat. “Besides, it’s not like Aubrey didn’t bring home people too while we were there. Remember that guy from the bar? Or that assistant from my record label party?”

“Nice,” Amy says, raising her hand to high-five Aubrey. It is not well-received.

Beca has to laugh at that. She can’t resist at the sight of Aubrey’s wide eyes and reddened cheeks.

"Leave her alone, you two,” Chloe says from where she’s distributing slices of pizza across newly cleaned plates. Chloe is bent over the coffee table and Beca is momentarily distracted by the clear line of sight down Chloe’s tank top, but refocuses when she catches Aubrey standing up a little taller and trying not to smirk at Beca when Chloe defends her. “As somebody who lived with Aubrey, she was always way more cheerful when she got laid,” Chloe continues nonchalantly.

“I love you,” Beca says. “Have I mentioned that lately?”

Chloe grins. “No, but feel free to tell me again.”

“Christ,” Aubrey mutters. She softens momentarily. “I’m going to miss living with you, Chloe.”

Chloe’s eyes shine with emotion. “Oh Aubrey. Of course I’m going to miss living with you! All those late nights, watching TV, listening to our favorite songs-”

Aubrey nods somberly. “And gossiping about Beca.”

Amy snickers. “Oh yeah, I remember that.”

Beca chokes. “Gossiping about who?”

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Come on. I had to talk to somebody about…” She hesitates. “Everything.”

Beca swallows at the tight feeling in her chest. She reaches out to hold the back of Chloe’s neck. “I’m still really sorry about everything, you know that right?”

The journey to finally getting together and being in a committed, healthy relationship was long and painful on multiple fronts. Beca is embarrassed by the thought and memory sometimes, but she’s just so thankful to finally have Chloe.

If only she had acted sooner.

For once, Aubrey doesn’t gag or tease them. She just leans against the back of the couch and smiles with tenderness and affection. “I’m so happy for the both of you, really.”

Chloe reaches out to tangle her fingers with Beca. She smiles at their two friends before focusing back on Beca. “I’m happy too. Like you wouldn’t believe.”

 

* * *

 

In general, it all goes well for the next couple of hours. Beca and Chloe manage to get their shelf up and their DVDs organized. They’re in the middle of plugging in their home system and TV when Aubrey shrieks so loudly that Beca hits her head on the wooden paneling of their TV’s shelving.

“Fuck!”

Chloe looks equally startled but quickly reaches out to touch Beca’s forehead. “Are you okay? What the hell was that?” she asks, standing and extending her hand for Beca to take.

“I bet Amy broke something,” Beca says lightly. She’s mostly joking, but she regrets it the moment Chloe’s eyes widen and she looks genuinely afraid. “Wait, no-”

“Not my mugs!”

“I was joking! I’m sure everything’s fine, Chlo,” Beca says quickly, following her girlfriend into the kitchen.

It’s Beca’s fault, really. She doesn’t realize what’s going on until it’s too late.

“What’s wrong?” Chloe asks, not realizing what Aubrey is holding in her hand.

“I found your toys,” Aubrey hisses.

Beca is exhausted and not completely functioning at a hundred percent capacity, which is how she later rationalizes her next words. “What toys? We don’t have children.”

It’s meant to be a joke, but her joke tapers off into a choked sound the moment she sees what’s actually in Aubrey’s hand.

Aubrey is holding their very purple, very distinct dildo.

Scratch that. Scratch everything.

Beca wants to sink into the floor and never return. She wonders if it’s too much to hope that she hit her head hard enough earlier and she’s already dead.

“No.  _Your toys_ ,” Aubrey responds.

“What are you doing?” Chloe asks in confusion. “Why do you have that?”

“This is yours,” Aubrey says, her voice a higher pitch than usual.

“I know it’s mine,” Chloe says calmly, like she’s talking about a coffee machine and not one of their sex toys. “Why do  _you_ have it?”

“What the fuck? Why are you so calm?” Beca asks, once she finds her voice.

“Why was it in the kitchenware box?” Aubrey demands.

Amy is surprisingly silent, but when Beca’s eyes swivel to her, she notes that Amy is watching with rapt attention. Fantastic.

Chloe’s eyes widen in recognition and just when Beca thinks it couldn’t get worse, Chloe’s parents walk into the kitchen, looking concerned.

Of course, Aubrey’s shriek of doom was what brought Chloe’s parents rushing back into the kitchen. Beca watches this all happen in slow-motion. Aubrey is gesturing wildly with their obnoxiously purple dildo. Beca half expects her to pull out their harness too, but she figures Chloe probably packed that with their toiletries, because why not?

Her life is over anyway.

“We heard screaming. Is everybody…” Chloe’s mother trails off at the sight.

Beca’s sure that this must look amusing as hell – four women in the kitchen while one wields a purple dildo in some kind of fucked up face-off. She’d laugh if she weren’t the owner of said dildo.

“Is everybody okay?” Sandra asks hesitantly.

Chloe reacts first, finally a hint of a blush shining on her cheeks. It’s nothing compared to the fire Beca feels in her own face though. “It’s fine. I just forgot I put this in here.”

“Why the fuck would you put it with our kitchenware?”

“Because I thought it’d be us unpacking it!” Chloe responds, as if it’s the most natural response. “I forgot.”

“That’s not an explanation!”

Aubrey still looks nauseous, but seems to have realized that her audience is now two people larger. “Oh. Well, this is aw-”

“Don’t even say it,” Beca mutters. “I swear to God, Aubrey.”

Chloe doesn’t even look horrified. Just mildly embarrassed. Beca envies her. “I thought it might be…obvious if we put it with our bedroom stuff.” She rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry, it’s clean.”

Beca thinks that’s the least of their concerns at the moment.

“So, do you wear it…or,” Amy directs at Beca. “Is it mainly Chloe?”

Beca’s brain plays cruel jokes on her regularly, so she chooses that moment to look up and directly at Chloe’s father.

An apology dies on her lips.

She can never face Chloe’s parents again.

 

* * *

 

Later - much later once Beca has recovered, she looks up from the last of the kitchen boxes. She sees Chloe and Aubrey standing on the balcony. Wandering closer, she can kind of hear their conversation.

"The loft is going to feel different without you,” Aubrey admits, looking down at her shoes.

“I know,” is Chloe’s murmured response. “I love you, Bree. Thank you for everything. And uh, not just today. Just. Everything.”

Beca’s heart clenches at the wistfulness in Chloe’s voice, knowing how comfortable and settled in Chloe had been, living with Aubrey.

Aubrey had been such a good support pillar – a rock for Chloe to lean on. Beca understands the pain of having to separate from somebody so important after so long.

Still, Beca is so excited about everything. She knows the transitional stage for Chloe will be difficult. Aubrey has been her best friend through it all – she was there for Chloe when Beca couldn’t be. She watches Chloe squeeze Aubrey into a hug, thankful that her girlfriend has such a good support network in her life.

She’s reminded then that this is important – this step with Chloe. She loves Chloe with everything in her and she can’t wait for the rest of their lives together.

She doesn’t want it to ever slip away from her again.

She’s going to be the one who’s there for Chloe now. This is it.

“We should finish up,” Amy says from behind her. Beca startles and turns from the balcony. She smiles slyly. “I’m sure you’ll want to uh, break in the apartment tonight, but your bed is still in the box.”

Amy’s right, but Beca’s not going to justify that with a response. Not after everything.


	31. (T) one more box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Stop pretending you’re okay, because I know you’re not.”

**summary:**  The complexities of moving across the country.

 **word count** : 2.5k

 

* * *

 

Beca isn’t sure that she needs this many people helping her move out. It’s not like she had that much to begin with, considering she shares – shared – a tiny apartment with two other people.

Still, more than half of the Bellas are in her apartment (somehow) and they’re helping her move her belongings into the waiting truck below. Amy offered to make herself scarce about an hour and a half ago and Beca notes she is now lounging on her own bed, flipping through a magazine.

The Brooklyn apartment is so  _small_. It was ridiculous that they were attempting to fit that many people at all, let alone smoothly move herself, Aubrey, Emily, Stacie, Lilly, Cynthia-Rose, and - of course - Chloe in and out of the apartment was difficult. Aubrey seemed to delight in delegating tasks to people and reorganizing Beca’s boxes, despite Beca’s insistence that there was already a system in place (there wasn’t) and that Beca would prefer that Aubrey didn’t touch her things (she really didn’t mind, it was just funny to see Aubrey’s lips purse into a thin line and it was also fun to hear Chloe’s light giggles).

Beca doesn’t want to admit it because she’s enjoying the company and the chaos, but it’d probably be easier if she did this herself, but her heart thuds in her chest of giving up precious time with her friends – her family – before she has to move across the country.

Chloe and Aubrey both were trying their best to organize the Bellas. Chloe had the upper hand of also having lived in the apartment and knowing exactly where Beca’s things were – even things that she didn’t even know she had. Aubrey, however, had a chart. It looked remarkably like her old blocking charts when she ran Bellas choreography and considering how disorganized everybody happens to be at the moment, Beca thinks it’s somewhat indicative of why Chloe had primarily taken care of choreography as opposed to Aubrey (or even Beca herself).

It didn’t matter however, how helpful Chloe and Aubrey were being. Nobody was really listening and it was mostly a cacophony of noise and laughter. Beca wouldn’t have it any other way.

Their friends were just… _terrible_ at moving, it seemed.

Cynthia-Rose and Emily were probably the most helpful ones. Beca had to quickly remove a few items from Lilly’s grasp because she looked close to either breaking it or, well, Beca’s not sure what else she would have done with it. Stacie was flirting with Beca’s next door neighbour about ninety percent of the time. It ultimately didn’t matter who was being helpful at any point in time, ultimately; everybody else was consistently bad at moving that somebody’s helpfulness didn’t make much of a difference.

Beca is thankful that she packed most of her stuff anyway before her friends arrived. With Chloe’s help, they had managed to square most of her things away.

“I’m going to be lucky if I can find a mug at all,” Beca murmurs to Chloe.

Chloe smiles at her, vibrant as always. “Is there anything else I can pack for you?” Beca tries not to focus on the underlying storm of emotions in Chloe’s eyes – a far cry from the emotions Beca had previously been privy to when, well-

 

* * *

 

_“You’re such a good kisser,” Chloe murmurs, tugging Beca back into her body._

_“You said that,” Beca reminds her, chasing her lips with her own. She tucks her hands into the back pockets of Chloe’s jeans, sighing heavily against Chloe’s mouth when Chloe’s hips rock into hers determinedly. “I think you’re a good kisser too.”_

_Chloe giggles. “We’re drunk,” she points out unnecessarily, sitting heavily on their shared bed._

_“Amy’s not home,” Beca replies, as if that somehow makes sense. She breathes deeply, watching Chloe unbutton and unzip her jeans, pushing them hastily down her hips. Chloe’s eyes are ablaze – lit up with the reflection of the soft light emanating from their small stand-up lamp. Beca swallows at the heaviness of Chloe’s gaze: heated, tender, and filled with unmistakable lust as she slides her hands up Beca’s bare thighs._

_“Come here,” Chloe murmurs._

_“You should move back in,” Beca points out, watching intently when Chloe pulls her own her shirt over her head. Chloe moving out after a fight with Beca was still a sore spot between the two, but preserving their friendship had been the most important thing on Beca’s mind. She supposes it kind of worked, all things considered. “We could be doing this all the time,” Beca says in a convincing tone._

_“And what’s this?” Chloe asks, swinging her leg over Beca’s thighs and effectively straddling her._

_Beca chalks up her lack of an answer to the fact that Chloe’s hand is sliding down the front of her underwear._

_It’s nothing. Everything._

 

* * *

 

That had been the beginning of a…tentative relationship. A tense, back-and-forth that was neither a complete friends-with-benefits situation, nor was it an actual, fully-blossomed relationship.

Beca had cared too much about her job, and Chloe cared too much about holding on to the past.

_(Also, it had been so difficult for Beca to categorize the terms of their relationship as anything remotely friendly – not when she was so ridiculously in love with Chloe Beale and had been for years._

_There was also the added bonus of knowing that Chloe likely had feelings for her too._

_Just._

_Neither of them were in the right place.)_

The break-up had been gradual.

Not that there had been much to break-up to begin with.

It’s fine. They’re still friends.

_(It’s only just one of the best and most achingly sad years of their lives.)_

 

* * *

 

Chloe blinks.

And now, Beca Mitchell is moving across the country.

_Away, away, away-_

“Hm, can you just check my nightstand? I emptied it last night, but like, if you do that, then you don’t have to drag Stacie away from Greg again.”

Chloe snorts. “So considerate.”

Beca grins at her and leaves the apartment to bring a box downstairs to the truck.

Chloe gazes around the nearly empty apartment. Of course, Amy’s things are still there, but all she sees are the spaces where Beca’s things should be, but they aren’t. She doesn’t see Beca’s favorite headphones, she doesn’t see Beca’s favorite jacket, messily draped over the closest chair, she doesn’t see Beca’s laptop, balanced precariously on the kitchen counter.

She doesn’t see _Beca_.

Moving out had been the best decision for Chloe at the time. She remembers when she had packed all her things away about two years ago, realizing it was for the best because her feelings for Beca were getting out of hand and Beca was still working through the long distance thing with Jesse.

Then, as suddenly as Chloe had moved out, Beca and Jesse had broken up.

And as equally suddenly, Beca had her tongue shoved down Chloe’s throat and her hand raking up Chloe’s back, bringing Chloe back into her orbit again.

_And again and again and again-_

Chloe shakes her head to herself and picks up a surprisingly empty box near the bed. Sitting on the edge, she opens Beca’s drawer, peering into it and making sure Beca has everything she needs. She smiles as she sees Beca’s old glasses, a bunch of colorful pens, and an old, somewhat familiar beanie that Beca clearly no longer had any use for. It was folded unceremoniously and shoved near the back of the drawer. She bites her lip and quickly picks up the beanie, intending on keeping it when suddenly, a small box falls out of the hat and onto her lap.

Chloe’s heart nearly leaps into her throat. The box strikes familiarity in her, even though she can’t recall ever seeing this.

The voice in her head tells her she’s wrong.

She knows this box like the back of her hand – how could she forget?

Against her better judgment, she opens it an inhales shakily at the delicate diamond perched on a simple silver band.

Her mouth forms an ‘o’ before she can stop herself and she would collapse if she weren’t already sitting.

The six-month old memory is as clear as day.

She never forgot, she just pushed it aside because it drummed up terrible feelings of guilt and despair.

 

* * *

 

_Chloe can’t sleep. It was too quiet her apartment. Now that she lived by herself, she didn’t get the sound of Amy’s snores – the perfect white noise machine against the constant sound of New York traffic._

_She hates the quiet; she hates being away from Beca._

_She had grown accustomed to Beca’s presence over the past year, since they decided to take their flirting to the next level, but it clearly wasn’t enough since neither of them was really willing to try to push for more._

_Too afraid, too soon, too needy – excuses run through Chloe’s head regularly these days and only make her angrier and more afraid of losing Beca forever._

_It felt right at the time, quietly telling Beca that they shouldn’t see each other anymore, but Beca’s hurt expression and the immediate rebuilding of her walls had nearly completely shattered Chloe’s resolve._

_As if on cue, her phone buzzes on her nightstand. Once, then twice, then a third and fourth time in a row._

__**Beca**  
chlo  
chloeee  
open, please  
its fucking cold

_Chloe blinks, unsure if she’s dreaming or having some kind of nightmare – a reminder of what she can’t have._

_**Chloe  
** are you sleep-texting me?_

_Against her better judgment, Chloe wraps her jacket around her shoulders and grabs her keys. At the front steps of her building, sure enough, Beca is there, pacing, just outside her door._

_She has to know. Beca looks determined. “Beca?”_

_Beca stops pacing immediately and reached up to adjust her hat – a soft knitted beanie that fit snugly on her head. Chloe tilts her head, thinking that Beca looks adorable (as she usually does), but also a little cold._

_“Nice PJs, Beale,” Beca says, walking towards her slowly._

_“Are you drunk?” Chloe asks softly. “Bec, I should call you an Uber and get you home.”_

_“This is a bad idea,” Beca says, mostly to herself. Chloe frowns in confusion. “I have to tell you something.”_

_“Tell me what?”_

_“I love you and I’m sorry.”_

_Chloe blinks. “You love me?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Beca, this isn’t…you’re drunk. You can’t seriously expect me to…”_

_“Please say you love me back. Please tell me that this is killing you as much as it’s killing me.” Beca looks like she’s fighting the urge to grab the front of Chloe’s jacket. Chloe’s kind of grateful she doesn’t because she doesn’t know if she can resist._

_“Beca, we just need time, okay? Neither of us…You just broke up with Jesse.”_

_“Yeah, almost a year ago!” Beca shouts._

_Chloe winces, hoping her neighbours are deep sleepers. “Beca, keep your voice down.”_

_“Why are you so fucking fixated on him? Why can’t you see that I’m – I’m trying and –” Beca’s brow furrows. “Why do you get to be okay about all this?” Beca asks softly, breaking the edge in her voice. “Stop it.”_

_Chloe sighs. “Beca, you should come inside and lie down-”_

_“Stop pretending you’re okay, because I know you’re not!” Beca cries._

_Tears spring to Chloe’s eyes. “Of course I’m not okay,” she says softly as Beca starts to cry in earnest. “We should talk about this tomorrow. This is the right thing to do, trust me.”_

_"No, just – just listen to me, Chlo,” Beca says after a loud sniffle. Chloe instinctively reaches out to hold on to Beca’s forearms even though her brain screams at her not to._

_"I-I know…that you love me,” Beca says quickly. “But I also…I know that we both need to learn how to…how to grow together.” She bites her lip, struggling for words. “You deserve someone who will put your dreams first. Somebody who’ll help you and - and lift you up. I want to be that person for you. I can be that person, I promise. I can – I can quit my job and-”_

_“I don’t want you to quit your job,” Chloe says softly. “I never wanted that.”_

_“But I would do that,” Beca replies, tilting her head in confusion. “I…I want to be your first choice and, I think, even if I’m not, I think you and I could really make a life together. I would do everything to make you happy, and I know I can’t change the past or how long I made you wait, or – or how fucking awful I’ve been, but I promise I’d protect you and love you and put your needs first.”_

_Beca pauses then, seemingly waiting for a response. Her eyes peer into Chloe’s blearily._

_“I don’t understand,” Chloe says finally, when the silence grows too heavy. Maybe she’s drunk._

_She’s so tired._

_Her heart seems to tell her that Beca is saying something, but it’s too muddled. Too contrary to everything Beca seemed to want from her when they were actually together._

_"No,” Beca says quickly when she sees Chloe start to move away. “I’m not done. Chloe, I know it’s sudden and everything, but every day I think about how much I want to wake up next to you.”_

_Before Chloe can do or say anything, Beca is presenting a velvet box that she apparently had in her pocket the whole time. Chloe’s hands fall limply to her side as she stares at Beca numbly. Suddenly the cold doesn’t seem to matter. “Marry me?”_

_…That’s a ring._

_There’s **a ring.**_

_And Beca definitely just proposed to her, managing to include swearing somehow._

_“Please, I know…I know that you trust me, and I trust you, and I think we can make it. I’ve known how much you meant to me since Barden. Since you walked into my damn shower. I was just so damn confused.” Beca is crying again and Chloe feels her own eyes well up in response. “And – and if you one day think you’ll…find somebody else, I promise I’ll walk away now and we can pretend this never happened. I promise,” she repeats._

_Chloe’s reality seems to fizzle in and out._

_“What?” she tries to ask, but her voice comes out as some wisp of a breath – a barely-there whisper._

_The silence seems to extend._

_“Okay, so, no,” Beca mumbles to herself. “That’s a no, if I’ve ever heard one.”_

_Chloe wonders if she should protest, because Beca is mumbling to herself and fumbling with her phone. She stares at Beca for the next few minutes until an Uber pulls up to the curb and Chloe has enough mind to hastily ensure that the driver is bringing Beca back home and not some random location._

_The next morning, after a night of no sleep at all, she texts Beca hastily._

_**Chloe**   
_ _are you ok?_

_**Beca**   
_ _yeah, why wouldn’t I be?_

* * *

 

It echoes in her mind, like an incessant alarm. She can’t figure out how to turn it off.

_Stop pretending you’re okay, because I know you’re not._

“Did you get everything?” Beca asks, breaking Chloe’s reverie again.

Chloe quickly hides the box under Beca’s beanie and quickly shoves a bunch of pens into Beca’s hands when she turns around. “Yep, totes.”

“Are you okay?” Beca asks, taking in Chloe’s blush.

A million responses come to mind.

Chloe settles on one.

“Yes,” she says. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 


	32. (M/E) blink and you might miss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to prompt 44: “Cuddle me.”

**summary:**  Chloe has an idea for making movie nights fun. The jury’s still out on that, Beca thinks. Rated M/E. I’m so sorry.

 **word count** : 3.6k

 

* * *

 

“Movie nights are terrible,” Beca grumbles. She’s brushing her hair quickly, staring at her reflection in the mirror of Chloe’s vanity.

Chloe nods, primarily focused on all the smooth skin on display - the way the muscles of Beca’s back bunch and jump with each movement of her arm as the brush passes through her hair.

Sighing, Chloe leans back, content to listen to Beca’s complaints, so long as it means that Beca gets to spend more time with her.

Their little friends-with-benefits scenario started about two months ago, near the beginning of the school year. A new year - Beca’s junior year and Chloe’s…second junior year - and Beca was newly single. Chloe would be remiss if she didn’t admit that she had been waiting for Beca as patiently as possible. This - this isn’t the absolute best scenario, but she’ll take it if it means she gets to have Beca, even for just a few stolen moments.

Somehow, they found their way together, amidst it all.

Beca sighs, putting the brush down and turning back to Chloe. Her eyes are sharp, bright, and thoughtful as she assesses Chloe for a moment.

“What?” Chloe asks, raking her hand through her own hair lazily. She doesn’t feel inclined to move for a while.

“Nothing,” Beca admits. “Just admiring the view.” She realizes belatedly the exact words she just expelled and flushes, crossing her arms. “Shut up,” she says quickly.

Chloe stifles a grin and instead raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t say anything.” She pats the bed. “Get back here, you nerd and cuddle me.”

It isn’t until much later when Chloe’s getting ready for bed and Beca is long gone that she’s struck with sudden inspiration.

 

* * *

 

 

Beca can’t quite believe  _this_  is when Chloe is choosing to this.

But she can believe it a little – especially after Chloe had been so delighted by her discovery just last week.

(“Shh,” Chloe hushes, brushing a wet finger over Beca’s lips. “You’re going to wake up the entire house, babe.”

Beca writhes, needing Chloe’s fingers back in her. Her eyes nearly cross at the sensation of Chloe’s fingers rubbing expertly at her clit, arching her back once more. “I don’t care,” she murmurs before she can stop herself. The air feels thicker and heavier, weighing down on her chest. Her hand rakes up Chloe’s back, trying to pull Chloe closer to her if it’s even possible at this point. “Please,” she whimpers. She’s so fucking close.

“You don’t care?” Chloe asks, interest tinging her voice. “So you wouldn’t care if I fucked you in front of all our friends?” Her fingers press deliberately and firmly into Beca.

It’s something about the timbre of Chloe’s voice and the little rasp that forms at the end of her inquiry. Beca groans as the imagery assaults her senses. Chloe had been teasing her all night, building her up only to stop and then start all over again. Now that Chloe’s fingers are being merciful, Beca’s brain cries out in relief and her defenses fall nearly immediately.

Rocking her hips up, Beca cries out, nodding against Chloe’s neck, enjoying the little puff of air that Chloe lets out as her arm tenses between them. “Yes,” Beca mumbles. “Yes, God – yes.”

She cannot be held accountable for what she agrees to when Chloe is two fingers deep inside her - no matter how true the statement might be.)

Beca knew she was in trouble the moment she entered the living room and saw the way all the Bellas were already arranged. There was no available seat except-

“Bec, sit here,” Chloe had said cheerfully, patting her lap. She even lifted the edge of the blanket for good measure, eyes wide. The picture of innocence.

Beca had rolled her eyes and ignored the way Amy snickered at her and the general giggling that had happened from everybody else.

She allowed Chloe to drape the blanket over both of them, nearly up to their shoulders. Chloe had then comfortably wrapped a loose arm around Beca’s waist and leaned her chin on Beca’s shoulder. “Tell me if you want to stop,” she whispered. Beca then felt Chloe’s hand trail up her inner thigh.

Beca did not object.

…Which why Beca is now struggling to keep her eyes open and focus on  _at least_  the opening credits of the movie. Chloe is rubbing her through her shorts – her dark, almost black shorts, a color for which Beca is grateful because of how wet she is at the moment. She can’t quite believe how bold Chloe is being, teasing her like this in front of literally everybody. Beca briefly sends a quick prayer of thanks up to the Heavens for the fact that Aubrey no longer lives in the Bella house. She’s not sure what she would do if Aubrey ever caught them.

Chloe’s teasing continues on and off throughout the movie for at least half an hour. By then, Beca is trying to stop from both squirming and crying out because of how close she is to coming. As she shifts backwards, she finally feels it.

Chloe pauses too, seemingly realizing that Beca has noticed what she had kept hidden under her loose sweatpants.

“ _Oh,_ ” Beca whispers, low enough that only Chloe can hear.

“Okay?” Chloe asks back, lips warm against the shell of Beca’s ear.

Beca isn’t going to object – not when she feels herself clench around nothing at the thought of Chloe fucking her with her strap-on in front of all their friends. She nods, trying not to be too eager, but she knows Chloe knows anyway, because Chloe has a knack for these things.

 _God_ , she feels dirty.

Beca exhales as Chloe shifts the fabric of her shorts further, to accommodate their positions. The fabric pulls at Beca’s skin, but she could care less. She’s only hyper aware of how fucking full she is, sitting on Chloe’s lap fully, with a fucking sex toy inside her.

“Fuck,” she hisses. It’s less discreet than she thinks because Stacie’s eyes swivel to her and her eyes narrow either in suspicion or confusion. Beca’s not entirely sure how her brain manages to fire any cylinders at all at this point, but she quickly shakes her head and whispers to Stacie, “nothing, just – Chloe’s hands were a little cold against my arm. Er. Leg.” She tries not to waver, but her voice sounds higher-pitched than usual. Beca tries to make up for it by fixing Stacie with a confident-enough expression (she thinks).

Overall, it’s quick-enough thinking and appears to satisfy Stacie because she turns back to face the screen. Beca is only aware that it’s some romcom of some sorts starring Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis – Stacie’s choice for the night, if Beca recalls the schedule well enough.

It doesn’t matter though, because Chloe’s arm is tightening around her waist while the other presses firmly on her thigh, pushing their bodies closer together. Beca stifles a groan, but she’s sure Chloe feels the tremble that rips through her body.

Beca had been dying for Chloe to bring out this toy again since the first time they used it.

Now that she’s confronted with it – literally – she can’t believe they waited this long at all. Chloe presses a quick kiss into her shoulder, her breath puffing out against Beca’s neck before she whispers “good work, baby,” in a soft, gentle voice that belies the way her fingers are digging into Beca’s thigh. Beca stifles another sharp inhale and allows her thigh to shift to the side. Chloe’s fingers immediately trail gently up her inner thigh, rubbing back and forth in a seemingly soothing manner.

Beca tries to breathe regularly – tries to fixate on how solid Chloe feels underneath her. God, she needs to be even closer – she needs Chloe to-

“Take them off,” she murmurs, as quietly as she dares. Chloe’s fingers pause and she seems to contemplate Beca’s words.

“Can’t,” Chloe replies, right in her ear. It makes her jump, but the action itself only reminds her that the strap-on is buried inside her. She shifts again, a little restlessly, wanting to take off her shorts completely. Granted, the shorts are loose enough that it’s not entirely painful, but it’s not the most comfortable.

Beca bites her lip, hoping Chloe won’t hate this too much. She groans and stretches her arms, before lifting herself off the toy completely. She has to bite her lip to stifle the whimper that threatens to escape and as quickly as she dares, quickly shimmies her shorts halfway down her thighs all while pretending to just re-adjust herself on Chloe’s lap. Chloe’s fingers tighten against her hips, and soon enough, she’s sinking back down comfortably – though as comfortably as she dares, taking each inch of the toy while holding her breath.

A quick glance around indicates that nobody has noticed or cared, which Beca is grateful for.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, tilting her head towards Chloe.

Chloe chuckles then, low against the back of Beca’s neck. “Desperate,” she teases. Beca flushes at Chloe’s knowing tone, hating that Chloe can read her so well – especially hating how much she wants Chloe at any given point in the day. Still, Chloe squeezes her hips comfortingly and moves her hands to trace little patterns on her bare thighs. “You’re okay,” she reassures in a barely-there whisper against Beca’s ear. Chloe’s hips shift then making Beca’s eyes very nearly cross.

Beca is not okay. She would never be okay again. Every inch of skin touching Chloe’s body only served to stoke the fire inside her. Greedily, she thinks, she would much prefer Chloe’s fingers in her, but the thought of whether she wanted them in addition to the strap-on only makes her body tremble again with want and she quickly banishes the thought from her mind for the time being.

“You two enjoying cuddling over there?” Stacie asks, voice low and teasing, just barely audible over the sound of the movie.

Chloe takes the opportunity to pull Beca closer and shift her hips in a way that Beca has to force herself not to squeeze her eyes shut. “Yes,” Chloe responds cheerfully. “Beca loves cuddling.”

Snickers from her so-called friends. “Does she?” Amy asks. “She always hits me whenever I try.”

“Maybe it’s because you try to sit on her before hugging her,” Cynthia-Rose chimes in.

Beca feels Chloe’s nails dig into her inner thigh. “Yes,” Beca manages to croak out. “This is fun.”

Their friends divert their attention once more and Beca exhales.

She hates this – she hates Chloe for likely enjoying it. She hates herself for enjoying it as much as she is at the moment. God, she can’t imagine the looks on their friends’ faces if they knew. Acting on instinct, Beca reaches down under the blanket, grabs Chloe’s hand and pulls it between her legs hastily. Chloe’s hand stiffens at first before she realizes what Beca is doing and she mercifully rubs at Beca’s swollen clit and down to circle her entrance around the toy as best as she can, but only for a few seconds before her wet fingers are trailing across Beca’s thigh and up, up - out from under the blanket. Beca blinks and dares to tilt her head a little to watch as Chloe slowly and deliberately flicks her tongue out to taste her fingers.

That damn eyebrow rises slowly as Chloe captures her own fingers with her mouth, cheeks hollowing in a purposeful show of sucking her fingers clean.

God, Beca hates her.

She whips her head back around and tries to refocus on the movie, ignoring the little pleased hum she feels vibrate from Chloe’s chest. Chloe’s hands mercifully find their way back to her body, resting low enough just under her belly, but Beca’s sure that the torture will resume soon enough. She shivers, drawing the blanket up more comfortably around their bodies, ensuring that nobody gets a free show in addition to the movie they’re watching (which has more sex scenes than Beca expected – she should really pay more attention to the synopses of the movies Stacie chooses).

Beca is distracted once again by Chloe shifting underneath her. This time, Chloe lifts her bodily as she readjusts on the couch, getting her legs into a more comfortable position. Now, Beca’s legs are spread a little over Chloe’s thighs and she quickly adjusts, biting back a groan when she has to lift herself and shift a little.

This is definitely not the most comfortable position and Beca is horrified to realizes that she has to sit through this for at least another hour or so.

“You’re sexy,” Chloe breathes out. Beca can practically feel the smile against her shoulder.

“You’re a tease,” Beca retorts out of the corner of her mouth.

Before Chloe can reply, the movie is suddenly paused and Beca’s entire body stiffens as Amy stands up. She feels Chloe’s hands tense on her thighs as well. Both their bodies lock up at the same moment and Beca is sure they’ve been caught.

“I need to use the bathroom real quick,” Amy announces. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

Everybody groans and stands up as well, stretching their limbs. “I’m going to get more snacks,” Stacie says, gesturing for Jessica and Flo to follow her. “Beca, do you wanna come? Or are you comfortable on Chloe’s lap?”

The sudden question startles Beca from where she had been subtly trying to shift and alleviate some of the pressure. Briefly, her brain fizzles out as she thinks of the many ways she could answer Stacie’s question. Glancing behind her, she sees Chloe is appearing nonchalant, on her phone, scrolling through a social media feed. Incredulous and mildly jealous of Chloe’s easy poise, Beca turns back to Stacie and shakes her head. “I’ll stay,” she says, surprised at how steady her voice sounds.

Chloe’s fingers move to rest lightly on her clit in response.

(Beca’s not sure it’s a reward - not when her entire body feels like it’s about to combust.)

Eventually, all the Bellas file out within the next two minutes, with Emily being the last and throwing Beca and Chloe a friendly wave on her way out.

(Nobody  _ever_  bothers staying, knowing that it might be a while before they reconvene.)

“Fuck. Thank  _God,_ ” Beca groans, the moment they’re out of earshot. She stands, letting the blanket fall to the ground and shucking her shorts down so they dangle precariously off one ankle. She finally takes in Chloe’s own attire now that the lights are on and shining down on them like a spotlight on their sins. Chloe’s oversized top dons a ridiculously cute pattern of dancing penguins while her sweatpants are tugged down enough to reveal the shiny blue strap-on. Beca notes that Chloe came prepared - the fact that she’s sitting on an old hoodie, likely to stop them both from creating a mess on the couch. This was so premeditated that Beca kind of hates her for it. “Fuck, you’re going to make me come right now,” she says in a hoarse voice, moving to re-straddle Chloe’s lap.

“Cute,” Chloe comments with an infuriatingly cheerful smile. Her hands glide confidently around to hold Beca’s hips.

The placating tone she uses is diminished by the pure desire Beca sees in her eyes. Beca goes for a different angle, looping her arms around Chloe’s neck and leaning close so that their foreheads are barely touching.

Sinking down, Beca makes sure that Chloe hears every last drawn-out vowel in her moan. “I’m so wet,” Beca whispers. “ _Please_ , Chlo. Please, I’ll come - just for you.” She bites her lip, lifting herself up and sinking back down again, a quiet whimper escaping her. It’s a testament to how comfortable they are with each other at this point, the fact that Beca knows exactly how to get that gobsmacked expression on Chloe’s face. The thrill of satisfaction rushes through Beca among other things when she sinks all the way down on Chloe’s lap when she takes in the hazy expression on Chloe’s face. Chloe’s possessive streak runs hot, Beca has come to know, especially where Beca is concerned. It’s something that she’d like to address later, perhaps when they’re not having risky sex nearly in plain view of all their friends.

When Chloe doesn’t stop her, she does it again, biting her lip so hard that she’s afraid that she draws blood for a moment. “You’ve been teasing me all night,” Beca murmurs. She leans in to kiss Chloe, lingering for a moment with an open-mouthed, barely there brush. Chloe exhales heavily into the kiss, tilting her head to better accommodate Beca’s lips. Chloe’s grip tightens on her hips, pulling her closer.

“Are you…at least enjoying the movie night?” Chloe asks, between increasingly desperate kisses. Beca nearly crows in triumph, seeing that Chloe no longer cares about having any sort of control over her. She wonders if she can convince Chloe to bring her back to her bedroom.

Chloe’s thoughts follow along the same line. It had been fun, but Chloe has half a mind to just bring Beca back up to her bedroom. The insert had been rubbing against her all night as well, and she was close to combusting on the spot. She’s not even sure how she’s forming words, let alone keeping up the charade of watching the movie, only focused on ensuring Beca was entertained or at least distracted enough to not be bored.

Beca takes pause at the question, wonder coloring her features for a moment. Chloe blinks out of her daze, staring up at Beca with an adorably confused expression on her face. “I - yes,” Beca answers as truthfully as she can. She felt like most of it was torture, but it wasn’t entirely terrible. “Very much so,” she breathes.

“Yeah?” Chloe asks breathlessly before leaning up to nip at Beca’s lower lip. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” Chloe continues. Beca realizes she had been terribly mistaken that Chloe was giving in. “You enjoyed the thought of getting caught - of somebody figuring out what you were doing.” Chloe’s hand comes up to grip the back of her head, pulling her in so their foreheads are touching. “You couldn’t help yourself, could you? You’re so fucking wet right now.”

Beca gasps - whether from the sudden grip Chloe has on her or the spectacularly surprising “fuck” that Chloe just dropped - and only manages to wrap her arms around Chloe’s shoulders before lifting her hips once more. “Shut up,” she grumbles, eyes falling closed. “Before they come back,” she gets out, stiltedly.

“They won’t be back for a while,” Chloe murmurs. “Try not to make a mess on the couch.”

Beca groans, partly in complaint and partly in desire when the tip of the strap hits a particularly sensitive spot with a strategic shift of Chloe’s hips. “You try not - not to make a mess,” she says, moaning embarrassingly right in the middle of her retort.

Chloe’s lips seek Beca’s out again, a surprisingly graceful and sensual kiss for their current activities. Beca whimpers into Chloe’s mouth, enjoying the sensation of Chloe’s warm body pressed against hers while their lips glide slowly together. It’s something that Beca has enjoyed recently - getting to know the different types of kisses. This kiss is currently verging on hungry, though they’re both adept at managing the pace of their kisses now and Beca slowly brings it back down to mildly desperate before exhaling heavily against Chloe’s lips.

“Are you close?” Chloe asks against her mouth. Beca’s eyes flicker open and she sees the sheer pleasure on Chloe’s face: it’s evident in the way her brow furrows, the flush on her cheeks, her swollen lips. What gets her is the way Chloe’s eyes are blown and wide once her eyelids flick open. She stares back at Beca in a way that makes Beca shiver from the vulnerability of it all.

Beca had been close, but upon seeing Chloe’s expression, she’s pretty much right there- “Fuck, yes,” she groans out before reattaching their lips. Her entire body seems to coil and tense, as does Chloe’s beneath her. Chloe whimpers once, head falling back against the couch as she lets Beca ride out her orgasm with ease. “Shit,” she mumbles, squeezing her eyes shut as she forces herself back down on Chloe’s lap, mouth falling open with how full she feels.

Beca’s body collapses against Chloe’s and she grips Chloe’s shoulders tightly before pushing herself back, dazed.

“That was okay right?” Chloe’s hands glide up and down her thighs comfortingly as they sit in silence for a couple of minutes. 

Beca almost doesn’t want to leave because Chloe is warm and comfortable, but she’s growing mildly uncomfortable with the toy nestled inside her. “Yeah,” she mumbles. “More than.” She blinks, battling back the little wave of arousal that courses through her when she slowly extricates herself from Chloe’s grasp and settles back on her lap so the toy slips out and rests between them.

Chloe exhales heavily, her hands still rubbing soothingly along Beca’s body. She tugs Beca in for a quick embrace, lips seeking hers out briefly. “We should clean up,” Chloe murmurs before pressing her lips against Beca’s forehead. “Change. Before they get back.” Her words come out as staggered as Beca’s thoughts feel, so she agrees, if only to quickly relieve herself of the stickiness she feels between her legs.

 

* * *

 

They manage to make it back onto the couch. Beca tiredly allows Chloe to tug her into a half hug, her legs draped over Chloe’s lap comfortably, before Chloe tugs the blanket up around them. She’s comfortably snug in a spare pair of Chloe’s sweatpants and and equally warm sweater.

Her nose presses lightly into Chloe’s neck and she tries not to inhale too greedily, enjoying the scent that is so distinctly Chloe.

Chloe’s giggle is light and muffled when Beca tugs up the hood of her sweater over her head. “Tired?” she teases.

“Shut up and cuddle me, you psycho.”


	33. (G) the meaning of life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ask/prompt from icarli: what is the meaning of life? (according to beca mitchell and chloe beale)

**_word count: 1074_ **

* * *

 

If somebody were to ask Beca what the meaning of life was, she’d perhaps have different answers to give them depending on which point of her life. It was never really something that kept her up at night.

She used to think that life was a series of goals after another - a quick succession of events, ups and downs, and then it’d just…end. She assumed she’d move to L.A. as soon as she turned eighteen, she’d pay her dues, and that would be that.

Her father threw a wrench in those plans, though. She found herself in the sweltering heat of Atlanta, staring forlornly at bright-eyed freshmen, all eager to start the next chapter of her life.

Beca just wanted to skip ahead.

For Beca, she learned, growing up, that making plans to linger or stick around was never a good idea. She never planned on staying because for her, it was L.A. - that was where she saw her life finally beginning.

Then, she met Chloe Beale and everything that happened afterwards felt like a reason to stay.

For Beca, the little moments become an entire universe in the blink of an eye. It’s in the furrow of Chloe’s brow whenever she’s particularly displeased at something Beca has said or done.

(Or the furrow of her brow when she’s trying to figure Beca out; it makes Beca retreat and take pause momentary, staring into the blue of Chloe’s eyes. She has never enjoyed feeling vulnerable, especially not now when it feels like Chloe could be the very person to make her come undone.)

Or maybe - the meaning of life is their first kiss - the way Chloe’s chest heaves and the way her eyes shine with unshed tears as she stares Beca down, daring her to finally do something. It’s then that Beca sees an entire future laid out in front of her - something to live for and somebody to live with for the rest of her life. It’s then that Beca finds strength to pull Chloe into her gravity, finally.

Or this – maybe it’s this moment really-

Beca quickly draws her hand back from Chloe’s cheek, smiling sheepishly when Chloe stares at her in confusion. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” is Beca’s quiet response to Chloe’s unasked question.

Chloe smiles, radiant. “I love waking up to you, but…” Chloe’s voice trails off, her mind obviously wandering into more pleasant - fun - memories. Beca grins, knowing exactly where Chloe’s mind went. With a light nip at Chloe’s neck, Beca brings her wife back to her.

“I thought about that,” Beca admits, ignoring the flush that rises in her. “But now, let’s just cuddle.” She scowls at Chloe’s giggle. “Shut up, Beale.”

“I knew you liked my cuddles,” Chloe teases tiredly, but she wriggles back against Beca comfortably, allowing Beca to hold her soundly.

Beca feels lightheaded and happy, and she sneakily weaves a leg between Chloe’s. Chloe smiles as her eyes close again, “I love you, Bec.”

When Chloe’s breathing evens out again, Beca slides her hand down a few inches over the slight swell of Chloe’s belly. All at once she feels pride and love well up inside her, nearly overwhelming her. “I love you,” Beca murmurs just as a second wind of sleepiness overcomes her. She smiles into Chloe’s shoulder. “And you too, peanut.”

She closes her eyes, and sleep comes easily.

 

* * *

 

 

For Chloe, just knowing that Beca gave her a chance at all - that Beca trusts her and loves her and wants to be with her - that’s more than she could have ever dreamed.

Chloe grew up in a big family and there never felt like there was enough time or space to go around. She loves her siblings and her parents, but she has spent such a long time just  _searching_  for that one  _thing_ to make it all worthwhile.

Chloe experiences heartbreak and loss over and over throughout high school. Boys that come and go - boys that couldn’t care less or even boys that cared too much to the point of suffocation.

Chloe doesn’t know if she believes in love, let alone whether she believes in finding any meaning in her own life because love is a constant, is it not? Isn’t it just something that drives people’s actions every day?

She thought she found it all in a capella, or at least singing. She found joy in that - enough to stick around through her undergrad and then,  _oh_ -

Beca just walks into her life. Just like that.

Beca with her little smirks and shiny eyes. Beca with her long brown hair and pretty smile. Beca, with the voice of an angel and a ridiculously attractive snark that Chloe isn’t quite sure what to do with herself.

Falling in love with Beca is so natural for Chloe. The reward is in the fact that she gets to be there to watch Beca grow and become an even more wonderful woman. She gets to be there for the love of her life and Beca doesn’t even  _know_. 

Until she  _does_  and Chloe feels like every weight has suddenly lifted off her shoulders.

Being loved, desired, and cared for - when she shares all of that with Beca Mitchell, Chloe realizes that she could make this woman happy for the rest of her life.

For Chloe, the meaning of life is sitting next to Beca on the couch and watching Beca click through channels at an annoying pace.

It’s in the way Beca either cranks the volume for a song on the radio or switches stations completely.

It’s in the way Beca is so tentative when they hold hands or how gently Beca kisses her - only at first though. 

It’s Beca’s passion: Beca is passionate about music and creation and  _art_  - and  _oh,_ when she’s passionate about  _Chloe_ , it shines through every part of her and warms Chloe’s heart like no tomorrow.

Realizing that Beca wanted the same things as her - that Beca wanted a family with her, that Beca wanted to  _marry_ her, that Beca wanted to  _date_ her - only fuels Chloe’s belief in soulmates; only fuels Chloe’s belief in love and being in love.

And being able to see Beca’s love shine through for their baby - to see Beca dote on their child so caringly and gently - makes every last heartbreak worthwhile.


	34. (G) All The Things Unsaid

**summary** : incomplete angst  
**pairing** : beca/chloe  
**word count** : 1.3k

* * *

 

 

There are flowers.

So many flowers.

Chloe always brings flowers and she manages to steel herself for once when Beca doesn't respond immediately to the questions Chloe always brings to her-

"How are you doing, Bec?"

(She wants to know.)

"Do you still think about me sometimes?"

(Maybe she selfishly wants to know she’s on Beca’s mind because Beca’s always on hers.)

“… I mean…you don’t have to answer that, but …anyway, Amy says hey –“

 

* * *

 

 _Jesus_ , Chloe has never quite forgotten their first time.

The _look_ in Beca's eyes when they were panting and near-sated. The skin-to-skin contact and how intimately Beca had stared at her, cutting through the darkness of their room.

_You are excruciatingly, wonderfully, and impossibly beautiful._

She can’t say that aloud, so she kisses Beca with intimacy she didn’t even know she possessed.

_I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life._

She _definitely_ can’t say that aloud, so she presses deeper, more thorough kisses to Beca’s lips and body, paying benediction to the only person she’s ever felt so deeply for.

 

* * *

 

Of course, it follows that sleeping together is kind of a mistake. Years after school ends and here they are.

Chloe can’t quite tell you how it happens except that Beca kind of rolls into her one night when they’re alone in the important and they both freeze.

Time freezes.

…And does so over and over and over again for the next few months or so. Maybe years. Chloe finds it easy to lose track of time.

“What if we…dated?” is the question that comes up one night.

It is shockingly not Chloe who asks – for all her bleeding heart tendencies – but rather, it is Beca. Beca who looks especially vulnerable, lying on her stomach while moonlight bathes her back in the most luminous kind of glow. Chloe wants to kiss her all over the unblemished skin available to her eyes. Chloe wants to kiss _her_ -

Beca clears her throat while Chloe flounders for a moment.

“I-” Chloe begins, but Beca interrupts her.

It’s kind of stupid. “What will people think?” is the essence of Beca’s question.

 _It’s just sex_ , is what Beca means.

Chloe’s throat closes and instead of laying down her heart like she’s prone to do, she clams up and refuses to give Beca the satisfaction of how hurt she is. Refuses to let Beca see anything except the hard set of her jaw.

Besides, Chloe’s sure that it’s really, _truly_ not like _that_. Honestly, despite Amy’s side eye and Aubrey’s disapproving glares.

Everybody in the world knows how much they both care for each other. Chloe cares for Beca (but not like _that_ ), and she wants to help Beca out with her self-esteem and co-dependency issues (but not like that). It’s just very in-character for her after all, right?

Beca never asks for help, but Chloe always gives.

“Who cares what they think?” Chloe asks instead. It’s a non-response. A cop-out if anything.

 

* * *

 

She never tells Beca the truth.

They all carry secrets of varying degrees. Chloe just kind of expects this one to be one she takes to the grave with her because it’s not worth _losing_ Beca over.

Chloe's never told Beca:

_I’m in love with you. Wait for me._

_Please._

(Beca’s not one for following directions.)

 

* * *

 

E-mails Chloe has addressed to Beca: 42, minus one unsent draft.

Texts Chloe has sent to Beca’s phone: too many to count.

Voicemails Chloe has left for Beca: Coherently? Maybe 5. Incoherently? Probably close to 30.

Letters Chloe has written that Beca never read: One.

 

...Beca hated letters anyway.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes they watch movies together.

Beca hates movies, but she watches them because Chloe suggests them.

Chloe stops breathing sometimes because Beca’s head comes to rest against her shoulder. Or Beca’s breath evens out and Chloe can feel the slow rise of Beca’s shoulders because of how closely they’re squished together on the couch.

Chloe was never one for losing focus, but here – here in the dark of all things -

Chloe loves the way Beca smells and how Beca is soft and pliant and so, so delicate beneath the appearance of a steely exterior.

"I have something to tell you."

Chloe startles out of her reverie and stares at Beca with wide eyes. Instinctively, her fingers touch Beca’s wrists before she curls her fingers around soft skin.

Thinner somehow.

“What is it?” Chloe asks, though she thinks she knows.

(The signs were presenting themselves and Chloe chose not to look.)

“What do you have to tell me?” Chloe asks, already unable to stop her voice from cracking.

 

* * *

 

_here we go again_

_trying to make you feel the way i feel_

_lonely but i'm blessed, and somehow you're worn out_

_wish that i knew then, what i know now_

 

* * *

 

(“You can’t tell anybody. Please.”)

_Oh._

(“...I promise.”)

 

* * *

 

Of course they’re fucking _singing_.

Chloe never swears, so it’s a surprise to her, even if it’s in her head.

Shockingly, Beca’s eyes are amused and light as she observes all their friends stomp around their apartment like they belong there. Makeshift karaoke.

Their apartment is so much like a haven now – so much that Chloe can’t imagine being anywhere else in the world with Beca. With their friends.

Recently though, Chloe has craved a different kind of escape. A Utopia of sorts - something to escape to where nothing could permeate their own little sanctuary.

Beca’s fingers brush her wrist as she passes her. Her eyes shine with something almost unrecognizable, but tinged with gratitude and adoration.

(Maybe love, but Chloe isn’t sure.)

She watches Beca go.

With renewed effort, Chloe thinks she’d like to find a place to take Beca. Somewhere soft and safe. If such a place existed, she would find it no matter what.

She would drag Beca there - to this place to call their own.

Only time would tell, Chloe’s sure.

And whenever that time came, she wouldn't be afraid.

Now, however, tuning back into reality, their friends’ laughter and voices wash over her.

Now, however, Chloe always keeps her promises.

 

* * *

 

It’s a different kind of timelessness.

A different kind of lovelessness.

 

* * *

 

"This is _bullshit,_ Beca."

Chloe never swears. So she does now because it’s something Beca enjoys – something Beca doesn’t expect out of her. A surprise, even. She half expects Beca to raise an eyebrow, but there's no response.

For a long time, there never was a response from Beca – not one that Chloe wanted, anyway. It’s her own fault for not pushing harder. For not talking about the emotions that bubbled beneath the surface.

Now, they spill over finally, but with nowhere to go. Nowhere to run.

 

* * *

 

Chloe loves movies, which isn't terribly out of the ordinary. What’s less ordinary is how _not_ into movies Beca is – Beca _was_.

If there’s something that Chloe shares in common with Jesse, it’s that they’re both baffled by how not into movies Beca had been. A jarring thought.

(More jarring, is how in love with Beca they both are, and of course, everything always ends up feeling like it’s too late. Always, with Chloe. With Beca. With them.)

The thing about movies is how many stories can be told over and over again, with no end in sight. How many stories she has enjoyed and loved and cried over. The stories she laughed over.

But no matter how long she's looked, how hard she's tried– and try she has–

Chloe isn’t sure there’s a movie for this however. Or a song.

(Not that she’s been feeling much like singing as of late.)

There just aren’t enough words, lyrics, or musical riffs in the world to tell her how to deal with love and being in love -

(devastatingly so)

\- with her best friend –

(and she never told her)

\- who also happens to be dead.

( _I’m sorry, Beca._

_I love you and I never told you.)_


	35. (G) solid beneath our palms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by Anna Kendrick's bouldering pics on Instagram.

There’s something about bouldering that really sends a rush through Chloe - something about releasing inhibition and letting herself just feel solid formations beneath her palms and fingers. The strain in her arms.

(Aubrey copes by repressing her vomit. Chloe thinks that this is healthier. By a long a shot.)

In any case, she tends to go alone in most cases because she’s hard pressed to find a Bella who wants to tag along anyway. Alice had stared at her like she had two heads. And the other senior Bellas - Hannah, Nicole, Grace - had pretty much followed her lead.

Climbing for Chloe isn’t a completely personal thing. She just enjoys the rush and the way her mind focuses on this particular form of problem solving. Figuring out where to put her feet, her hands - how to maneuver her body.

It’s great physical exertion too.

Which is what surprises her when Beca comes up to her one day and asks to tag along.

“I didn’t know you knew I went,” Chloe says, amused. She’s only known Beca for a year or so and she’s determined to get to know her even better over the next year - their second year together and Beca’s first co-captaining the Bellas.

Beca is so fascinating to Chloe. Chloe thinks that she’s unfairly attractive most times and she doesn’t even realize it. It’s curious how fast Beca kind of wriggled her way into Chloe’s life. The way Chloe thinks about her smile more often than not. The way Chloe is borderline obsessed with Beca’s  _music_.

Beca shrugs. “I just wanted something to do.” She grins then - always a surprise to Chloe - and stuffs her hands into her hoodie pocket. Chloe notes belatedly that she’s already dressed to go somehow. “And it gives us time to bond as co-captains.”

Chloe doesn’t have time to unpack that and she’s kind of excited to have somebody to bring along with her this time.

“The exercise will be good for you,” Chloe says, finally standing from where she had been lacing her shoes. She ignores Beca’s indignant inhale and the way she can feel Beca’s eyes boring into the back of her head. It amuses her and sends the most peculiar rush through her. Choosing not to dwell, however, Chloe grabs her bag and quickly double-checks that her climbing shoes are in there. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

It kind of spirals from there, though Chloe’s not sure how it happens.

There are two kinds of climbers: dynamic and static. In the same way precision and accuracy affect the styles of climbing, Chloe thinks that much is true about her own life. Chloe is careful at times - static - and precise, mostly. But Beca seems to have thrown herself head-in and Chloe lets admiration seep through her at every turn.

Beca’s petite frame and general, well, smallness seems to give her an advantage, but it’s honestly a rush, watching Beca succeed and thrive.

Chloe tries not to be so jealous when Beca somehow manages to bodily lift herself from point to point, though her heart sticks in her throat multiple times whenever she see’s Beca’s arms tremble or shake a little excessively.

“Bec, over there – yeah.” Chloe blows a wisp of hair out of her face and grins at Beca’s progress. Beca, having borrowed Chloe’s leggings, looks increasingly more like she belongs here every day. Chloe cheers a little when Beca makes it - when Beca finally makes it past the point she had been stuck on for a few sessions. Beca takes a breath and her eyes swivel to Chloe’s in delight for just a second, then she’s back to business.

Chloe quickly picks up her phone from the corner where she had it and snaps a couple pics of Beca. Unwillingly, a slow blush creeps up her cheeks as she continues to swipe through her photos. Looking up again, she realizes her vantage point is allowing her quite the view and she immediately stamps down the feelings associated with the way her heart races in her chest.

Chloe thinks about how easy it is to be attracted to Beca Mitchell. How easily Beca infiltrates every aspect of her life, even unwittingly. She’s been increasingly aware of her attraction to Beca - increasingly aware of her own lingering stares and the way her eyes drift.

But she’d be remiss if she didn’t notice the way Beca’s eyes seem to linger just so; the way Beca’s eyes seem to just stare at her with curiosity and something else unbidden and new.

Beca makes her way down, jumping off the wall at a short distance. Chloe clears her throat and holds up her phone for Beca to see. “That was amazing,” Chloe says, trying to push past the lump in her throat. Beca beams at her - all teeth and playful tongue - and takes the phone. Her body angles naturally towards Chloe’s and Chloe can feel immense body heat radiating off her. Chloe’s eyes drift to the gentle arch of Beca’s neck and the errant strands of hair escaping her ponytail.

Clenching her fist, Chloe quickly refocuses on Beca’s comments about her photos.

“I like this one,” Beca says, finally. Maybe a little begrudgingly. “And maybe the previous one too.” She peers at Chloe. Chloe tries not to notice how blue Beca’s eyes look. “You may post it on social media,” Beca concedes.

Chloe bites back a grin. “Really?”

“Yeah, I like the way you see me.”

_(Dynamic and static.)_

Chloe stares at Beca’s retreating back as she makes her way to her bottle of water, forgetting momentarily that her thumb lingers over the Instagram icon.

_I like the way you see me._

That’s something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hi to me on [tumblr.](https://isthemusictoblame.tumblr.com/)


	36. (G) Beca's Interview with James Corden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beca is encouraged to talk about literally anything other than her girlfriend in interviews, but old habits die hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno, I think this is set vaguely in the _she is the flint_ universe. Who knows? [Accompanying social media post on my tumblr.](https://isthemusictoblame.tumblr.com/post/185731408734/summary-beca-is-encouraged-to-talk-about) <3

Beca’s nervous.

She wrings her hands as she waits for the cue. James Corden is probably one of the nicest and easy-going hosts out there. She and her manager reviewed the questions beforehand and they were all light-hearted questions asking about her latest projects and some teasing questions about her personal life. She breathes deeply, wishing that Chloe could have made it to the Los Angeles studio, but she had been saddled with a double shift as well as being bogged down with studying for her practical finals.

She fiddles with her phone, clicking in to read the messages that she already knows are there.

**Chloe (3:34pm)**   
_You’re going to kill it!_

**Chloe (3:40pm)  
** _I was told to remind you that you are not allowed to talk about Aubrey’s projectile vomit like last time, Bec._

Beca snorts at the message and closes the app. “Thanks,” she mutters when an assistant takes her phone back to her dressing room.

“Hey,” Greg says, popping up from behind another set of curtains. “You good to go?”

Beca gestures at the timer that’s still counting down. “I guess?”

“Remember to talk about your last collaboration with CH.”

“Can you not call him that?” Beca grumbles. She hates how her manager becomes a fanboy when it comes to Calvin Harris. He basically worships the ground he walks on. Beca frequently has to remind him that he works for  _her_.

He ignores her, as per usual. “And you probably shouldn’t do that thing when you get into telling stories about Chloe. As charming as they usually are. It takes up a lot of time.”

“I don’t do that,” Beca says immediately, defensively.

“You definitely do and it’s definitely adorable, but we’re on a promotion circuit so, chop chop!” Greg exclaims, pushing her slightly. She turns to see the counter is about to hit zero and steels herself again, her mind buzzing.

James greets her with a handshake and a friendly smile. She allows him to knock a few jokes at her, knowing he’s going to bring up her embarrassing interaction at an award show a few months back. She laughs at the photo he brings up because it is pretty funny and she’s pretty much done with her embarrassment these days. There’s no time to hold on to those kind of trivialities in Hollywood.

“What are you working on right now, Beca?”

“I feel like my prepackaged answer is the tour, but that was last year - the last time we talked. Do you remember that?” James nods at her encouragingly. “I guess it’s just waiting for my second album to hit the shelves,” she says, tapping her fingers on the table. “I’m really happy with what I’m hearing so far.”

“And you’re pretty hands-on with the production of your music, right?”

“Yeah,” Beca says, straightening a little - this is something she can talk about. “Yeah, it’s great. I really like the process of bringing an idea in my head to life. It’s really therapeutic too - just sitting alone in my room with my laptop.” She grins a little at James’ chuckle. “That sounds strange, I guess, but whatever.”

“What’s your process like?”

“I guess it depends. Sometimes it’ll just be something super trivial, like, I’ll think of something Chloe told me over the phone. Or I’ll think of a very specific sound I heard around the office.” Beca wills her hands to stop flailing around. And to stop the blush from rising on her cheeks at the slip-up of mentioning Chloe. “I guess ultimately, I just want to make sure my album has a cohesive sound and that it represents how I really feel.”

“Now, did I see you were in New York just last month?”

Beca thinks back, momentarily lost. Travel plans are essentially the bane of her existence. “I…Oh! Yeah, I was,” she smiles at the pleasant memory. “I went with my girlfriend to a conference. Nerdy stuff,” she says, smiling at the memory of just how much she enjoyed Academic Chloe. How much she had enjoyed seeing Chloe in her element. It had also been nice to be barely a blip on people’s radar.

“I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” Beca says, smiling slightly self-consciously. “My manager told me that I talk about her a lot, but honestly, have you seen her?”

James looks delighted at the turn of events. Beca thinks her manager will probably kill her.

But what stands out most in her mind is Chloe’s delighted smile. God, her girlfriend is going to eat this up, isn’t she?

Beca’s doomed.

“Yes, we can talk about her,” James hedges, trying not to smile too widely. “Sounds like everybody’s been itching for more information about your mysterious girlfriend.”

Beca buries her face in her hands momentarily, shaking her head in an embarrassed way while the crowd cheers and applauds.

It was never necessarily something that she thought would be a part of her life; she never thought that she was going to be on live, national television telling millions of people how attractive her girlfriend is.

“No mystery,” Beca says finally. “I’m very proud of her and I knew her for years before we started dating. She’s, yup, you’re going to pull up a picture. Thank you so much,” she rambles, seeing the photo they pull up on the screen. “I’m honestly just honored that she’s dating me, James,” Beca says injecting a hint of playfulness into her tone, but the way James’ eyes soften tell her that he sees right through her facade.

“Well, I hope my wife and I can have you two over for dinner one day.”

“God, I’m sure Chloe’s clearing her schedule already,” Beca says dryly. She brightens. “We’ll be there,” she promises.

 

* * *

 

Later, she checks her phone for messages after downing an entire bottle of water. Interviews still somehow manage to give her the jitters - more than performing at least.

**Chloe (5:39 p.m.)  
** _Oh my god, guess who got a fun call from your publicist._

**Chloe (5:40 p.m.)  
** _I can’t say I blame you though. Your girlfriend is a very lucky woman. <3_

**Beca (6:24 p.m.)**   
_Oh my god, shut up._

Beca bites her lip, quickly firing off another message.

**Beca (6:24 p.m.)**   
_I love you. Just in case it wasn’t obvious or whatever._

To her credit, Chloe never dwells. She takes things in stride - Beca supposes she could learn a thing or two from her.

**Chloe (6:25 p.m.)**   
_I love you too. <3_


	37. (G) baby steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beca learns she’s getting a new baby sister. Thank you again @stuck-in-the-now on Tumblr for the headcanon and thank you twice for letting me borrow it. 💕

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I asked for headcanons on my [Tumblr](https://isthemusictoblame.tumblr.com/) and Bechloe fans _always_ deliver. This one in particular was from stuck-in-the-now, who said "beca has a baby half sister, and she likes to blow raspberries on her. chloe thinks it’s the sweetest thing."
> 
> I obviously flailed over that and this 1k+ drabble was born on my lunch break. I asked for permission to post alongside the original headcanon. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Song is "Floating" by Alina Baraz, feat. Khalid.

 

 _Everything you do_  
I want to do it with you  
Don't ever want to miss

 

* * *

 

 

Beca never thought she’d ever experience being an older sister. Or even just ever experiencing being a sibling,  _period_. It always felt like part of her identity was grounded in being an only child. When her father remarried, Sheila had an older son, but he was hardly around, so Beca barely recognized him as being an older brother. 

Now, however–

“You’re having a  _what_?”

“Beca,” Chloe says softly, mild reprimand in her voice. Her voice is quiet and she smiles at Beca’s father and stepmother, clearly willing to give them more patience than Beca. “That’s amazing, congratulations. I didn’t realize you were trying to adopt.”

“They–how old?” Beca asks stiltedly. 

This is new territory to her. She’s twenty-four years old, sitting in front of her father and step-mother, holding her girlfriend’s hand. And her father and step-mother have just informed her that she’ll soon be an older sister. 

Chloe squeezes her hand in support. 

“By the time she comes home with us, she’ll be just under a year.”

 _She_ , Beca thinks.  _A new baby sister._

“How long have you been thinking about this?”

Beca doesn’t intend the question to be harsh or laden with consequence, but not for the first time, Beca sees her father hesitate, like he doubts her or doubts his relationship with her.

She falters, knowing she hasn’t made it easy over the years, but she had thought that they had overcome some obstacles previously thought to be insurmountable. 

“A while,” he admits quietly. “We wanted to be certain before telling you.”

Beca supposes that’s fair enough, but it doesn’t stop the streak of white-hot hurt and mild jealousy run through her that she isn’t necessarily immediately privy to a potential new sibling’s life.

Consciously, she slips back into a state of awareness, focusing on the way Chloe’s hand feels in hers. “That makes sense,” she admits. Even quieter. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

 

* * *

 

She kind of bothers Chloe about what it’s like to have siblings, knowing that Chloe grew up as a middle child. She’s not sure what to expect at all.

Okay, so she bothers Chloe  _a lot._

Chloe is patient and accommodating. 

“You’re going to be an amazing sister, Bec,” Chloe assures her, sleepily in the middle of the night. Her tired eyes track the way Beca feverishly reads blog after blog, trying to find some semblance of an identity.

 _But what if I’m not?_  

“Okay,” Beca says instead, finally closing her laptop and placing it on her bedside. “Okay,” she repeats.

Chloe pulls her into her arms, pressing a kiss against the back of her head.

 

* * *

 

Beca is nervous. 

She is nervous all the way to the airport. She is nervous for the entire flight from Los Angeles to Atlanta. Nearly five hours of shaky legs and sweaty palms. Nearly five hours of resisting the urge to bury herself into Chloe’s side and sleep the rest of her life away.

“Babe,” Chloe calls softly. “We’re here.” 

Their Uber stops outside her father’s familiar porch. Beca recalls many a vulnerable night, standing in front of that door too nervous to speak. Too uncertain of her own relationship with her father. 

“You guys are good, now,” Chloe continues. “Your sister’s waiting for you.”

Beca nods, allowing Chloe to pull her out of the car. She helps Chloe carry their weekend bags from the trunk, finally feeling the oddest sense of calm.

“I’m not even sure why I’m so nervous,” Beca says, speaking quicker than she originally intends. “It’s…it’s a baby. I’ve dealt with your niece and nephews before.” 

Chloe stifles a grin, thinking of her ten-year old niece and her five-year old nephews. “Yes, same thing.”

Beca’s father greets them immediately, almost like he had been waiting for them right by the front room’s window. “You made it,” he says, looking both nervous and exhausted. “Can I get you guys a drink? Tea, Chloe?”

“I’d love that,” Chloe agrees, depositing her bag by the door. Beca does the same, then immediately stuffs her hands in her pockets.

“I guess the little munchkin’s asleep,” Beca says casually like she didn’t just drop the cutest nickname with more than a bare hint of concern in her voice. 

“She’s awake, actually,” Sheila murmurs from behind them, surprising them all. She descends the stairs with a small bundle in her arm, from which Beca can see the smallest of fists reaching out into the air, mid-stretch. 

“Oh,” Beca says softly. 

“Meet Natalie,” Warren says. “Your sister, Bec.” 

Natalie has a shock of black hair and light brown eyes. Her cheeks are round with the faintest natural blush. She’s practically grinning at Beca already.

Chloe can tell she’s going to love her.

(Whether that’s Beca loving Natalie, Natalie loving Beca, or Chloe loving both of them with her entire heart.) 

“She’s cute,” Beca murmurs, looking embarrassed at her own words. The embarrassment fades almost instantaneously however and the transformation happens right before Chloe’s eyes: Beca’s entire demeanor softens, her shoulders hunch, and she bends right over Natalie, not caring how close she gets to Sheila’s personal space.

“Really cute,” Chloe says, very nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet to resist from getting too close.

“Do you want to hold her, Beca?”

“I…yeah, I do.”

Beca’s not sure exactly what opens in her heart the moment Natalie settles into her arms, but something shifts in her and she embraces it wholeheartedly. 

 

* * *

 

“That’s something, huh,” Warren comments, noting how intently Chloe is watching Beca play with Natalie on the floor. Beca is playfully holding a little stuffed lion above Natalie’s head, both of them laughing delightedly when Natalie’s arms fall short of the stuffed toy in her attempts to grab at it.

“It’s something,” Chloe agrees. She blinks the sudden tears – happy tears – out of her eyes. “I’m really so happy for you and Sheila,” she says quickly. “You guys…this is perfect for both of you. All of you, actually.” 

“We were skeptical about raising a child so late in our lives, but we’ve got more than a few good years left and we knew when we saw the adoption papers that we couldn’t pass up the opportunity to give Natalie a better life.”

“Yeah, that’s…that’s amazing,” Chloe says, not trusting herself to speak more. 

Their conversation is interrupted when Natalie blows a raspberry right up at Beca’s face, startling them all into a brief silence. 

Chloe waits to see what Beca will do or say, now that she has baby spittle all over her face. 

(She’s waiting to see if Beca will notice if she pulls out her phone to take photos.)

Beca continues to surprise them all however because she begins tickling Natalie’s sides and then she leans down to blow a raspberry into her stomach, causing the baby to emit squeals of delight and ensuing giggles.

The burst of noise warms the entire room.

 _God, I love you,_  Chloe thinks, letting her mind wander a little to think about Beca holding children of her own. Children she’d ideally share with Chloe.

Beca’s eyes are bright and playful as she turns her eyes upwards so she can smile at Chloe. It is, without a doubt, the most in love with Beca that Chloe has ever been. She doesn’t care if in that moment, her love for Beca shines across her face as clear as day.

Beca is more sunny and vibrant than ever before. Chloe has always known this about Beca - about how loving and caring she can be, even if she is slow to show it to strangers or people she is distant from.

But now – now Beca is  _everything_.

Chloe wants to bask in this warmth forever.


	38. (T) it's the love that you might find

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times Beca almost comes to a realization and the one time she finally does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [asweetmelodytrickling](https://asweetmelodytrickling.tumblr.com/) on [Tumblr](https://isthemusictoblame.tumblr.com/): Beca realises she has a toner for Chloe...
> 
> I don’t think it’s super angsty, but maybe the slightest sprinkling of angst. I was gonna write a headcanon, but instead of that, this lil drabble was born…Thanks for the prompt! The title is from The Head and The Heart’s “I Found Out”.

##  _**one.** _

Beca has eyes.

That stranger was attractive, without a doubt. As pretty as she had been standing in the sunlight, imploring Beca to join the Bellas. Acapella of all things.

Just–

Maybe if Beca weren’t so mortified at having to perform an impromptu duet.

Scrubbing the back of her neck, Beca pauses. Maybe what? She asks herself. Maybe nothing. Shut up. Stop that.

She shakes her head, determined to ignore the sound of the giggles that echo around almost-empty showers.

She’s not going to let anything distract her from her goal of eventually moving to L.A.. Nothing. Nobody. Not even the prettiest girl she’s ever laid her eyes on.

 

 

__

* * *

 

 

##  _**two.** _

“I can see your toner through those jeans!”

Aubrey’s words ring in Beca’s mind. 

Beca kicks her shoes off her feet and faceplants on her bed.

Aubrey Posen is quite possibly the most ridiculous person she has ever met and Beca scornfully reminds herself that she has met a lot of ridiculous people in her life.

“What the  _fuck_  is a toner,” Beca mumbles. She twists, pulling her phone out from her pocket so she can scroll through her unread messages.

Jesse, Jesse, Kimmy Jin, Dad, Jesse, Chloe, Dad–

She pauses, scrolling back up to Chloe’s latest text message to her. 

 **Chloe Beale  
** _Becaaaa! Where’d you go!_

She squints at the date and time, realizing that Chloe sent her that message during hood night.

Unbidden, flashbacks from the night float through Beca’s mind, persistent like a headache, though not nearly as painful. 

Chloe’s lips had looked impossibly soft and Beca knew she wasn’t imagining the blush on Chloe’s cheek even in the low light.

Chloe’s smile drifts through her mind like a haze. Beca kind of wants to lean in–

But lean in where? 

_How?_

She’s not–

Kimmy Jin chooses that moment to enter their shared room, startling Beca out of her reverie. 

“Uh,” Beca starts, wondering if Kimmy Jin can see guilt on her face.

_Why am I feeling guilty?_

“What are you doing?” Kimmy Jin asks, eye Beca warily.

Beca blinks and realizes she had been standing in the middle of their room, absentmindedly gazing at nothing. She does not need to give Kimmy Jin more reasons to distrust her.

 

* * *

 

 

##  _**three.** _

Beca bites her lip, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Amy isn’t lurking or about to pop out from some hiding spot and scare the shit out of her.

Once she realizes she’s alone, she quickly opens Chrome’s incognito browser.

Her fingers twitch over the keyboard. She’s not even sure why she’s nervous. It just feels like the oddest sense of guilt and jealousy and anxiety all rolled into one ball of a mess and now it has settled somewhere deep inside her chest like heartache.

 

> _Is it considered cheating if–_

Her brow furrows and she slams the backspace key.

 

> _Is having dreams about your bes–_

“God,” Beca mutters.

 

> _is it okay to have sex dreams about your best friend_

She scowls at her screen. Then, she scowls down at her hands as she types again, glaring in an almost accusatory manner at her hands, as if they aren’t extensions of her mind, but rather acting of their own accord.

 

> _–your FEMALE best friend_

“Hey!” Chloe chirps from just beyond the bannister. Beca jolts and quickly exits out of the window. She spins on her chair, offering the briefest of smiles.

“Don’t scare me like that,” Beca warns.

Chloe lifts a shoulder and smiles innocently at Beca. “But then who would keep you on your toes?”

Beca can’t really argue with that.

Forgetting her previous troublesome thoughts, Beca rises and follows Chloe down the stairs, ready to take on whatever challenges they might face together as co-captains – and better yet, as partners.

 

* * *

 

 

##  **_four._ **

Jesse peers at her. “Are you attracted to Chloe?”

Beca gapes at him, disbelieving. “You just broke up with me and now you’re spouting this shit again?”

It’s not a new conversation. Beca recalls that she had spat out her drink the first time Jesse had brought it up about a year and a half ago.

“I mean, it’s a valid question.”

“I never cheated on you,” is Beca’s response. Her throat feels tight. “I don’t have feelings for her.”

“That you’ve admitted aloud,” Jesse adds, lowering his voice and looking at Beca with sympathy.

Beca _hates_  that sympathy.

“I mean, I think you really tried your best in this relationship, Bec,” Jesse says carefully. “And you don’t need me to tell you that.” He shrugs. “I love you and I know you love me, but just not in the way that means we should still be together as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

Beca honestly can’t believe this is the same boy who sang “Carry On Wayward Son” to her out the back of his parents’ car on a hot summer’s day in Atlanta.

“But I _don’t_ have feelings for Chloe. She’s–” Beca gestures vaguely, like Jesse should understand her thoughts immediately.

Jesse opens his mouth like he wants to say more. But he just offers Beca a pleasant-enough smile, all things considered, and sits back in his chair.

 

* * *

 

 

##  **_four and a half._ **

Belatedly, as Beca lies awake that night staring forlornly at the empty side of the bed she shares with Chloe, Beca realizes that Jesse had only brought up the question of being attracted to Chloe.

She scowls.

 _That’s dumb,_ she tells herself finally, as she falls asleep.  _Anybody with eyes is attracted to Chloe Beale._

 

* * *

 

 

##  **_five._ **

Chloe’s lips are impossibly soft.

Like Beca always imagined them to be.

Chloe tilts her head, inching closer to Beca. Her fingers tighten momentarily around strands of Beca’s hair before her hand falls away.

They had just been talking. Talking and catching up and doing things that friends do.

Then–

“You kissed me,” Beca says numbly. Chloe has long since pulled back and her eyes shine with something almost unrecognizable. Only almost because the same emotion echoes somewhere inside Beca’s chest, desperately trying to claw itself out.

“I did,” Chloe replies. She bites her lip, leaning back on the couch. “Is that…okay?”

“I–”

And for once, Beca doesn’t have any distractions or any mindblocks to fall back on. All she has is Chloe sitting in front of her, looking simultaneously hopeful and terrified of her own actions. That feeling resonates with Beca and she honestly doesn’t know what to do or say in that moment.

“Why did you kiss me?” Beca asks weakly. “I–”

“I’m sorry,” Chloe says immediately. “I’m so sorry, I just thought–”

Beca stands up and paces, running a hand through her hair. Every moment - every memory - from the past six years comes rushing back and it sends such a shock through Beca that it roots her straight to the spot.

Behind her, Chloe sniffles and shifts. In her periphery, Beca sees her stand from the couch.

“I’m just going to go,” Chloe says softly. “I–I’m so sorry, I thought maybe you felt the same way and I just–” Chloe sounds increasingly distressed and Beca can do no more than to struggle out of her own thoughts so she can do something – anything before it’s too late.

Everything in Beca’s life feels like it’s a touch too late. Her life is the result of hesitation and wariness. Cautiousness. 

_I’m sorry._

* * *

 

 

##  **_one, again._ **

Beca has eyes–

And every other functioning sense as well. The objectivity of sight and sound and touch were always enough for Beca, such that she let her brain run on autopilot and left her heart unattended.

 _I’m sorry,_  Beca thinks as her brain finally catches up to Chloe’s kiss.

But mostly it feels like she’s apologizing to her heart in some way. Apologizing for denying her heart the freedom it deserved; the freedom necessary to hold all the love and desire she has for Chloe Beale.

“Wait,” Beca calls, spinning on her heel. As quickly as the numbness had spread, it dissipates in a whoosh of air. Suddenly, Beca is breathless with love and affection, years of repression screaming out as she locks it away.

Some might not be so lucky to experience it all at once, but for Beca, it was a long time coming and she realizes she has been waiting a lifetime to embrace this–

 _Years_  to finally embrace Chloe Beale–

Chloe turns, halfway to the door. She looks surprised and concerned, ever the caring friend first and foremost.

“I don’t know–” Beca says, realizing she has no words prepared for this moment. “I don’t know how–”

“That’s okay,” Chloe says, almost as breathless as Beca feels. “Are you…?” Her question trails off, like neither of them are actually prepared for this.

She pulls Chloe in – one hand on her waist, the other lingering somewhere near the neckline of Chloe’s shirt (as close to her heart as she dares) – and kisses her like it’s the first day of the rest of their lives.

She can feel every curve of Chloe’s body vividly; she can feel the warmth of Chloe’s breath just before their lips meet again; she can feel Chloe’s lips against hers–

“Wow,” Chloe mumbles against Beca’s mouth. “Okay.”

If it were any other situation, Beca would have laughed a little at Chloe’s dorkiness, but she honestly can’t help but agree.


	39. (M/E) ...Beca did not follow instructions, oops.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beca is annoying. Chloe is annoyed. Shameless smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god, i was just going through my blog to make sure i had rallied all the lingering one-shots and this ... i forgot about this. there is an [accompanying gifset here](https://isthemusictoblame.tumblr.com/post/181888935259/isthemusictoblame-chloe-checking-if-beca).
> 
> word count: 1950

Chloe can see Beca’s hand immediately fly out from under the duvet and she raises her eyebrows when Beca’s eyes swivel to meet hers.

It’s not necessarily guilt that Chloe sees, but Beca looks much like she has just been caught doing something  _wrong_  - though, if Chloe’s being honest, she kind of expected Beca to do this.

_But it’s -_

_Yeah._

Chloe swallows heavily and battles back the desire that threatens to escape and settles on a neutral expression on her face.

It’s not that Chloe expected any less, in all honesty. She can see the mild defiance in Beca’s eyes, sprinkled with a little amusement.

Like it’s  _fun_ when Beca is exceptionally annoying. Or when she’s purposefully riling Chloe up.

It only makes Chloe want her even more.

“Seriously?” Chloe asks, maintaining an even tone in her voice. “You couldn’t wait five minutes?”

Beca’s eyes track Chloe’s movements as if expecting her to pounce at any moment. “You were taking your time,” Beca says, as if it’s an explanation at all.

“I was talking to our  _friends_ ,” Chloe says in a dangerously soft tone. Beca sees Chloe’s hands twitch, even past the fabric of her jeans’ pockets. “I told you to get in bed and wait. Not get under the covers.”

Beca tries not to be too smug; tries to battle back the smirk as she fumbles behind her to turn off the light.

A second after the light goes off, Beca sees Chloe’s outline - illuminated from the hallway light - move closer to the bed.

The pause weighs between them like a fucking anvil. Beca can practically hear the gears spinning in Chloe’s head.

(Chloe has a sixth sense of sorts - it’s something that Beca has noticed since they started dating. It’s like she always  _knows_ when Beca is so painfully aroused - almost like she can sense how wet Beca is.)

“Give me your hand,” Chloe murmurs.

It’s so quiet that Beca nearly misses it. She pauses a fraction of a second too long because Chloe’s hand flies out to grasp her wrist and though she doesn’t grip it hard enough to hurt, it’s a solid enough grip that Beca can’t whip her hand away.

Before Beca can do or say anything, she feels Chloe’s mouth engulf her fingers and her lips part to expel a quiet moan. It’s too late to retract or stop herself, so she quickly clamps her mouth shut and snatches her hand away from Chloe.

“You really couldn’t wait,” Chloe says, mild triumph in her voice. She sighs just once before Beca hears the rustle of clothes. She hopes against hope that Chloe is taking off clothes for the purpose of getting into bed with her and  _not_ to put on sleepwear.

“What are you…” Beca clears her throat, feeling a lingering coolness on her fingers, still wet from Chloe’s mouth - though the sensation is not a new sensation considering, well- “What are you doing to do about it?” Beca asks, a little petulantly.

Chloe just sighs and whips back the covers as if this is a mere chore and nothing more.

When Chloe’s body settles on top of hers, Beca moans softly and arches her back, trying to get closer. She regrets putting on anything at all before getting into bed, but she figured Chloe would like something to unwrap.

Beca’s only trying to be thoughtful.

Chloe’s lips cover her own and Beca whimpers at how soft they feel - how wonderfully Chloe’s tongue pushes against her own.

“Chlo,” she murmurs. “ _Please_.”

She thinks Chloe smiles against her lips and before she knows it, there’s a clinking sound and the click of metal against metal, then Chloe’s body is rising above hers.

“This is what you wanted, right?” Chloe asks, voice silky and low. “You’ve been teasing me all day.”

Beca tugs her arms away from the headboard, inhaling sharply when she feels the telltale cool metal and tug against her wrists. If anything, it only makes her wetter and she bites her lip to stop the moan from leaving her lips.

Chloe catches that, her eyes already adjusted to the dark. “Oh, don’t stop now, Bec. You were so confident earlier, weren’t you?”

Without waiting for a response, Chloe starts at her neck and nips here and there. She soothes each little bite with her tongue and drags her fingertips up and down Beca’s arms and chest.

Despite wanting this - despite wanting Chloe to do  _exactly this_  - Beca squirms and tries to wrap her legs around Chloe’s waist. She craves Chloe being close to her and craves having her own arms around Chloe’s body to pull her as close as humanly possible. Moaning quietly, she tilts her neck back as best as she can when Chloe’s kisses trail up her jaw and nip along her sensitive ear.

Chloe’s ears immediately pick up increased rattling from the headboard, knowing that Beca’s resolve has already begun to crumble. Chloe grins and reaches up to palm Beca’s breasts over the fabric of the soft nightgown Beca is wearing - a mild inconvenience, but as if on cue, Beca whines and arches her body up.

“Chlo,  _under-”_

“I  _really_  doubt you’re in a position to make demands, baby,” Chloe says, adopting a cheerful tone that she knows will annoy the shit out of Beca. She squeezes for good measure and sighs, propping herself over Beca’s body. “You’re so pretty like this, aren’t you Bec? I mean - all tied up for me. It’s what you wanted right? You wanted me to tie you up like this and fuck you?”

Beca seems to be struggling with words.

Chloe tsks. “So soon?” She pouts, making sure Beca sees it before she’s grabbing Beca’s jaw and kissing her  _hard_ , though she’s careful to avoid the clash of their teeth.

Chloe sits back. Her hands travel down Beca’s thighs, rubbing along soft skin. She lifts the hem of the nightie, teasing at Beca’s prominent hipbones and her waist, before gently parting her thighs.

Her beautiful, cuffed Beca.

Despite it being dark in their bedroom, Chloe thinks about this sight often enough. The way Beca’s entire body is taut and strained. If it were light enough, she’d be able to see the flush rising in Beca’s chest and neck and her cheeks. The gentle part of her lips to expel quick pants.

Chloe tenses her thighs, inhaling shakily as a wave of arousal crashes through her.

“Pretty,” Chloe comments. She leans back into Beca’s body, now letting Beca grind herself a little up against her stomach. She kisses Beca soundly, allowing a soft moan to travel between them when she feels exactly how wet Beca is against her skin.

Beca’s hips shift restlessly - desperately - while Chloe allows her lips to wander across Beca’s cheek, her ear again, and back to her neck. A hand goes up to gently stroke at Beca’s forearm and wrist as best as she can - a reminder that Beca can always tell her to stop and she would in a heartbeat. Sighing contentedly against Beca’s neck, Chloe shifts again, using her body to rock back into Beca’s causing a new ripple of lust to rocket through both of them.

“Chlo, please,” Beca whimpers.

“Please what?” Chloe asks, distracted by all the soft skin available to her. She can taste how wet Beca is and barely restrains herself from licking right into Beca’s center. Instead, she draws back and makes sure Beca can feel the ghost of her breath against her surely over-sensitive flesh.

“Fu-uck,” Beca groans out. “Please, fuck me.  _Please_. Your - your tongue - just-”

Chloe licks her lips, sliding back up Beca’s body. She bites back the soft moan that threatens to escape at the lingering taste of Beca on her lips, determined to tease Beca just a bit more. “You like it when I lick you, babe?”

Beca nods eagerly, nearly taking Chloe out with how fast she’s nodding her head.

Chloe hums. “It feels nice, doesn’t it? When I use my tongue to fuck you. And you taste so good, Bec.” She lets her lips graze Beca’s for just a brief moment while her hand pushes Beca’s legs apart further so she can settle more comfortably between them. “But I feel like…” she pauses, letting her breath wash over Beca’s mouth for a moment. “I feel like…only good girls deserve that.”

Beca moans, long and low and shakes her head. “I’ve been good,” she whimpers.

Chloe wants to laugh, but instead she uses her free hand to cup Beca’s jaw. “Have you?” Her other hand pushes between Beca’s legs without warning and her fingers stroke at Beca’s stiff clit. “Have you been good?”

Beca chokes, her hips rocking upwards immediately. “Chlo,” she grunts. “Chloe-”

“Answer me,” Chloe says softly.

The air whooshes out of Beca’s lungs the moment she feels Chloe’s fingers slide down to circle her entrance teasingly with barely there pressure. “No,” she whimpers, mostly in response to Chloe moving her fingers. “God,” Beca hisses out. She rocks her hips up again, to no avail. “Touch me. Please.”

Chloe stifles a smile. “I  _am_ touching you.” She moves her hand away. “Now I’m not.”

The handcuffs rattle again. Chloe can practically  _hear_ the equivalent of Beca throwing a tantrum. “Chloe!”

“Where?” she whispers, tilting Beca’s lips up for a soft kiss. “Tell me, Beca. Since you seem know exactly what you want.”

“You know where, Chloe, please!” Beca cries out, finally completely broken down.

Chloe slides her fingers into Beca - two fingers - and groans against Beca’s neck, drowned out by the long, drawn-out moan Beca releases. She can feel Beca fucking  _clenching_  around her fingers and it’s nearly enough to send Chloe over the edge. She bites her lip, stopping herself - just barely - and draws her fingers out just a smidge before thrusting back in.

She’s sure it won’t take Beca long. Beca’s moans eventually turn to little breathless cries and her body is so tense that Chloe is concerned briefly before Beca whimpers and tilts her hips upwards. She’s begging - nearly crying - all kinds of instructions for Chloe:  _harder, baby_  - more -  _please please please_ -

Chloe loves Beca like this - loves seeing her lose all sense of self-control and self-awareness. She loves how tight Beca gets and how hot and flushed Beca’s body becomes. It’s only hers - only Chloe’s - to behold and she’s so fucking thankful that Beca is sometimes an annoying, bratty bitch so that she can elicit this reaction from her.

(Not that their sex is normally boring or anything - it’s just that, well, Chloe  _knows_ that sometimes Beca just needs to be fucked in this very specific way and she’s honestly just too shy to ask Chloe out right. So.)

Beca cries out, hips rocking up so hard that Chloe is surprised at her sudden strength. As sudden as it is, Beca is almost immediately boneless and limp, with the exception of how tightly she’s gripping Chloe’s fingers. Chloe quickly captures Beca’s lips with her own, feeling Beca return the kiss almost desperately and rather weakly. One last thrust - Chloe knows exactly how to curl her fingers to make Beca see  _fucking_ stars-

“ _FUCK!”_

Beca makes a strange sound - a cross between a sob and a scream and her arms pull aggressively at the handcuffs.

Chloe waits a few beats while Beca catches her breath, tapping a gentle rhythm against Beca’s soaked inner thighs.

When Beca seems to come to - Chloe can tell from the regulation of her breathing - Chloe pretends to huff when Beca tilts her head up for a kiss.

“I’m not done with you yet, you little brat,” Chloe murmurs against Beca’s mouth.

Beca shivers.

She supposes she deserves that.


	40. (M) the break-up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M for violence and dark themes. Don't read if this isn't your cup of tea.
> 
> Word count: 1,103
> 
> Song is Miki Ratsula's _Stones_.
> 
> See the matching [photoset/picspam I made to accompany this fic on Tumblr](https://isthemusictoblame.tumblr.com/post/186201626669/the-break-up-rated-tm-for-violence-and-dark).

_There’s a girl in the mirror_  
_Taunted by the reflection_  
_Of someone she’ll never be_

 

* * *

 

When Beca comes to, all she can see beyond the dark spots swimming in front of her vision is...

Chloe.

_But Chloe is–_

As the fog clears slowly and gives way to immense pain in her right side and a smarting, sharp pain at the back of head, she slowly begins to recognize the many variations of Chloe in photo form spread out in front of the table in front of her.

If Beca weren’t completely bound and gagged, she would find the nearest toilet to hurl into. Forgetting her pain for a moment, Beca’s confusion gives way to disgust and anger, manifesting ultimately in fear to the nth degree. Not for herself, but for Chloe.

Some photos clearly depict Chloe in various stages of undress. Others, soft intimate moments with Beca that were clearly in the privacy of their apartment. 

She feels sick.

“Oh, you’re awake,” comes a quiet voice from the shadows. “You’re a restless sleeper, did you know?” 

Beca tries to draw from her training - any of it at this point, really. Instinctively, she feels like she should recognize the voice, but her mind feels muddled and slow.

 _Drugged_ , she thinks belatedly. _You’re drugged, Mitchell._

Her immediate reaction is to feel an ounce of hope.

_Good, then this is a nightmare._

 

* * *

 

It’s not a nightmare.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t know anything,” Beca grits out, resisting the urge to scream. Her thigh is bleeding incessantly at this point and her leg feels numb – but only when he isn’t prodding her with the sharp tip of his knife.

It burns hot against her skin, setting her nerves alight.

He tosses the knife onto the table, scattering her blood across the collection of photos of Chloe. Photos of her. Photos of them.

Her life, spread out on the table.

Like bringing a lamb to the slaughter.

 

* * *

 

 

Chloe’s last message to her flashes behind her eyelids while she prays for reprieve of any kind.

 **Chloe Beale**  
_I’m going to be out of town on that retreat with Aubrey. Literally no cell service out there, but I can’t wait to see you when I get back!_

 _Don’t come back_ , Beca thinks, for the first time.

 

* * *

 

Seeing the sunlight again after three days in that hellhole makes Beca want to recoil.

But the thought of seeing Chloe again makes her push through, makes her push past the tall burly men with their bulletproof jackets and big guns.

Beca thinks that there really is no defense against mental assault. No way to really prepare for your defenses to be taken down one by one, systematically and methodically until you can no longer hold yourself up.

 

* * *

 

 

Chloe returns just as Beca is discharged from the care of the agency’s hospital.

Her limp is barely noticeable. Her face is free of bruises. Just a cut above her eyebrow.

The hurt lingers inside, never fully excised.

But Chloe is _there_ –

“Chloe,” Beca says softly when she opens her door.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Chloe says immediately, wrapping Beca up in warmth akin to a warm summer’s day.

Beca closes her eyes. The tremble that ripples up her body has little to do with the slow brush of Chloe’s hand against the back of her neck as she presses the sweetest kiss to Beca’s lips.

“Bec,” Chloe says softly. “Beca, come sit down. You’ve been staring out the window for the past ten minutes. I just want to spend time with you.”

Beca turns slowly, finally letting her eyes drift over Chloe’s face, wishing she could do or say anything to alleviate some of the worry and concern etched over her girlfriend’s face.

Her scars and bruises were easily explained by way of shoddy New York traffic and damn cyclists. Whether Chloe believed her entirely or not was still up for debate, but Beca had been so relieved to have Chloe back in her arms 

Instead of the usual comfort and happiness she draws from the sight of her girlfriend, all she feels is the worst kind of nausea. If she blinks, she can envision herself in that concrete prison once more, blood dripping from her forehead. Blood drying on her lips.

Beca swallows, tasting no copper. Just the dryness of her mouth. Just the shame on her tongue.

How can she express how profoundly _sorry_ she is - how woefully inadequate she is at her job?

She can hear Chloe’s voice already, even as she walks slowly towards the couch, ignoring the sharp pain shooting up her leg (a constant reminder of what she must do). 

 _Bec, don’t be stupid. It’s not your job to protect me_.

But it _is_ and Chloe has no idea. She has no idea that Beca lives two separate lives, refusing to merge them into one.

Looking at Chloe now - with her eyes full of concern and love - Beca knows that Chloe has no idea what danger she’s in. Chloe has know idea that she has chosen to bestow her love upon the one person who could be her very downfall.

Chloe’s voice sounds in her mind again. _That’s so dramatic, Beca. Shut up and get over here._

“Beca,” Chloe calls again. She pulls Beca back into the present, both by calling to her and pulling her hand so she sits on the couch. “You’re miles away. What gives?”

When Beca first met Chloe, she knew this was somebody whom her world could never touch. Not for the sheer fact of Beca never telling her _ever_ , but because Chloe would never let herself get wrapped up in Beca’s nonsense.

 

* * *

 

When Chloe cries, something new shatters inside Beca. The sight of Chloe crying because of _her_ is so visceral and powerful that Beca nearly struggles for air.

“What did I _do_?” Chloe asks. “We were– we were _good_ , Beca,” she implores.

“It’s for the best,” Beca says as hollowly as she possibly can. It’s not too much of a stretch. She is hollowed out, too much of a damn coward to face her problems head on until they come crashing into her. “I never should have...we never should have done this,” she mumbles, too ashamed to look at Chloe.

“I _love_ you,” Chloe chokes out, sounding as pained as Beca feels. Has felt. 

Then, she wrenches further into Beca’s chest–

“Doesn’t that mean anything?”

 

* * *

 

“Do these photos mean anything to you, Beca?” he had asked. Her name sounded like poison from his lips. “Do you recognize them?”

Beca could have lied. She could have said no. She could have denied Chloe any place in her life right then and there.

_They mean nothing. Say it. Build your mental barrier. Be strong for once._

Her silence had been telling enough.

 

* * *

 

 _It means everything_.

“I’m sorry,” is all Beca can say now.

 

* * *

 

 _Every once in a while_  
_When the cries get too loud_  
_And hurt is all we see_

 


	41. (G) all that glitters is not gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe Beale's 15-year high school reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make this some kind of huge sweeping fic for Bechloe Week (day 4 - high school), but it ended up being short and sweet and I just don't really want to finish it to completion. It's short enough and the feelings are there.

The fifteen year reunion is all everybody can talk about. Leading up to it, it’s like the sleepy suburb of just outside of Portland comes to life and the town has purpose once more.

For as much as they like their quiet and peace, they like their little moment to shine even more, because it’s not every day a celebrity returns home.

It’s like the prodigal son, only better.

Perhaps worse, depending on who you ask.

 

* * *

 

“Did you hear? Chloe’s coming back for the reunion.”

“Who?”

“Chloe. Chloe Beale.”

“Oh. _Oh._ ” A pause, then a scoff. “Don’t pretend like you were ever on a first name basis with her.”

 

* * *

 

Chloe is somewhat of a household name at this point. Not just in Portland, Oregon, but all over. At thirty-three and a half, she is the star of an HBO series and regularly gracing the covers of magazines. After leaving Barden, Chloe takes the chance to move to L.A. with Beca who had needed a roommate and somebody to basically hold her hand through the entire process.

At twenty-five and a half, she finally graduates from University and moves across the country, back to the West Coast, to live with Beca Mitchell.

At twenty-seven, she goes on an audition on a whim. She takes the day off work from the advertising agency she works at, she stares fondly at the good luck text from Beca (who is not quite a girlfriend, but no longer just a friend), and she heaves a breath before walking through the first of many non-descript doors to follow.

At twenty-eight, Chloe is being interviewed by Variety, Paper, and MTV all in one circuit. At twenty-eight, Chloe is attending Sundance, wishing that Beca was by her side. Beca, who is off producing music that the entire world listens to.

At thirty, Chloe is sitting in the audience at the Academy Awards, crying not because she lost her first-ever nomination, but because Beca is sitting at the piano, performing on the world’s stage. The papers later will say she was crying because she was emotional over her loss, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. She had stared at Beca on stage and realized how lucky she was to have gained everything and more, all in one lifetime.

Now, at thirty-three and a half years old, Chloe stands in front of her full-length mirror and wonders where all the time went. Where it disappeared to, while she was off in Los Angeles. Only a plane-ride away. The same time zone.

Portland has never felt further. She is suddenly eighteen again and staring at her shoes while the principal reads names at graduation. She is suddenly eighteen and realizing she is out of place. That she never belonged. Her smile was always too wide. Her voice was always just a bit too loud. Her tendency to overshare and pry made her an oddity. A bit of an outcast.

(The whispers in her direction, floating all up over her head. At fifteen, rumors were everything and anything. They were somehow both vicious and sweet.

Chloe still hears some of them in her mind. Random, mindless rumors of her latest boyfriend. Who she made out with. It was all just the cruelty of children, really. Teenagers, but really children, who were too immature to grasp the repercussions of what it meant when they tore her down for her looks, her confidence, and how she tried to handle things with as much grace as possible.

Until the cracks finally appeared; until everything finally spilled over. But then, the rumors didn’t stop, they just changed and morphed into false concern. Eyes that glazed over when they looked at her. People never ran out of things to say.)

Beca, at thirty-one years old, comes up to stand beside her. A little bit behind. Her chin rests on Chloe’s shoulder.

“Ready?” she asks.

“Yes,” is Chloe’s only response. “Yes,” she repeats, weaker.

“We don’t have to go,” Beca says immediately, like she has been saying repeatedly for the past two weeks. “We can just stay home. Your dad said he just cleaned out the barbecue.”

“No, we should go,” Chloe says. “I have to go.”

She is happy that her voice doesn’t waver.

Beca says nothing, but she does not have to say anything, not when she has spent years learning all of Chloe’s quirks and insecurities. So, Beca simply nods and relaxes.

 

* * *

 

Chloe stands off to the side, near the small plates and piles of finger foods. The scent wafts around her, but she pays it no mind. Her stomach rolls unpleasantly.

Two time Academy-Award Nominee and this is what sends you into a wreck?

Beca has left for a moment, having received a phone call from her manager.

Suddenly, Chloe finds herself surrounded.

People want to  _know_ things about her life, about the kinds of things she does. About all the gossip and the fame and that seemingly untouchable and indescribable part of Hollywood.

The glamor and the glitter.

So Chloe manages a smile – she has had practice – and keeps her head high.

She tries not to think about the girls who hid her gym clothes or the boys who smirked at her as she walked down the hall after a bad break-up.

 

* * *

 

“This is not where I imagined I’d be,” Chloe says, keeping her head bowed.

Beca’s thumb never stops moving soothingly over the back of Chloe’s hand. “Where?” she asks gently.

“Back here. With you. All of this.”

A part of her wants to clarify that she does not mean to imply any regret about her life, especially not the parts that involve Beca. Nerves rise steadily in her until she feels nauseous.

Then, Beca’s grip on her hand tightens and she holds Chloe’s hand warmly and securely without a care in the world. Almost as if they’re the only two in the shoddy light of the now too-small gymnasium.

At one point, Chloe sat in this very gymnasium and listened to guest-speaker after guest-speaker, police officers, firemen, and therapists alike. All of them always came to their school for the same reason:  _This is how to be a better member of society. This is what not to do. This is what to do when you feel afraid. This is what to do when somebody is bullying you._

Chloe never quite feels like they are speaking to her directly. The disconnect echoes around her and she always bows her head a little solemnly.

_But what do you do when you’re lonely and wanting? What do you do when the ache becomes too much?_

When she lifts her head, however, Beca is still there. Beca is there, she is solid, and the anchor that keeps Chloe from going adrift.

 

* * *

 

Chloe at thirty-three years old - almost thirty-four - gets on stage to receive an award (a nondescript one, congratulating her vaguely for all her successes and laden with admiration that Chloe always craved but now doesn’t know what to do with all of it) from a classmate she barely remembers. She hugs a teacher she never forgot. She tries not to smile at Beca side-eyeing her old high school flame. 

Somehow, as her past, present, and future come together in this too-small space under too-bright lights, she feels something in her chest give way to the warmth she always craved.

When Beca kisses her neck, then her jaw, then behind her ear later that night, Chloe tucks Beca’s hand against her chest.

She dreams of the future.


	42. (G) taking turns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beca and Chloe are new parents. They’re still figuring out this baby stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For “C” who donated to the Bechloe/Planned Parenthood fundraiser via my Ko-Fi page and asked for “something with a happy ending”. So, for you my dear, this is something a little different – something with a happy beginning.
> 
>  
> 
> [Accompanying GIF set on Tumblr.](https://isthemusictoblame.tumblr.com/post/186852516584/taking-turns-11-summary-bechloe-as-new)

Beca typically takes her coffee with one milk and one sugar. Sometimes two if she’s feeling up to it.

Ever since re-indulging in caffeine again and slowly slipping back into a regular schedule – as regular as she can be, working from home – she has been enjoying plain, black coffee.

Greedily, she inhales her coffee before taking a sip. It nearly scorches her tongue, but it’s just the right side of hot and manages to make it down her throat without too much issue.

She’s too tired to notice if she burns herself anyway. Her clothes have various spit-up stains and other questionable dried bits of food – her own or the baby’s? – but Beca could care less. She could care less when all she feels is love and affection and the protectiveness of a new mother whenever she looks into their baby’s cherub face.

(“I…want to pinch her cheeks,” Beca whispers, horrified at her own words. “That’s weird right? It’s pretty weird. I don’t do that.” She’s just completely in awe of how pink and round Charlotte’s cheeks are – how perfect she is and how amazing and how incredible–

Chloe’s laugh would probably carry through the house if she weren’t absolutely terrified of waking up Charlotte who has finally fallen asleep. Pinching her cheeks would probably be bad for that reason as well.

Beca pinches Chloe’s cheek instead, grinning when Chloe swats her hand away from her face playfully.)

The aches and pains post-birth have long faded away, but the past couple of months have been a huge adjustment period for both herself and Chloe.

Brave, sweet, loving Chloe who has been taking more shifts than entirely necessary and frontloading most of her work to the beginning of the week so she can have half-days on Thursdays and off days on Fridays. She claims to want to spend more time with Beca and the baby and to make sure that Beca has everything she needs, but Beca always catches the longing in Chloe’s eyes whenever she has to leave in the morning to beat the morning rush to the clinic.

The downside of living in Los Angeles, unfortunately.

“I’m off,” Chloe says, interrupting Beca’s pondering over the pitfalls of Los Angeles traffic congestion.

Beca frowns, glancing at the time on her laptop. “So early?”

“Yeah, just…I have to get some paperwork done so I can get that time-off for our trip to my parents’ place.” She smiles, her entire face brightening. “They’re so excited to have us.”

“They’re so excited to have Charlie,” Beca corrects, unable to stop her own smile from spreading.

Chloe fidgets. “Is she awake?” She attempts to glance at the bassinet just around the edge of the kitchen counter, craning her neck to get a better look.

Beca shakes her head, reaching out a hand to placate Chloe. Chloe unfortunately had been missing a lot of waking-up moments due to early mornings at work – something Beca knew killed her wife to have to do. She can practically see the happiness drain from Chloe’s body.

“She’ll be here when you get back,” Beca murmurs, pulling at Chloe’s hand so she steps closer. Beca twists on her seat so Chloe can settle between her knees and accepts the gentle kiss Chloe presses to her lips.

“I know,” Chloe murmurs. She sighs and thumbs away the smudge of tinted lip gloss on Beca’s lower lip. “I miss her.”

“Chlo,” Beca starts.

“It’s fine,” Chloe says quickly. “I should get going anyway.” She pecks Beca on the forehead before stealing another quick kiss from her lips. “Give her a hug and a kiss from me. I love you both.” 

“Love you, Chlo,” Beca says softly. “Should I Facetime you at lunch?”

Chloe nods at that, a hint of a smile finally returning to her face. She picks at their fruit bowl for a particularly shiny apple. “Best part of my day,” she replies.

“Okay, we’ll do that. Lunch date, scheduled.”

“Don’t work too hard,” Chloe says, grinning.

“Oh please. Nobody works as hard as you.”

Chloe is about to parry back as she steps out of the kitchen when Charlie begins to coo and cry softly from her bassinet. Chloe freezes and turns to look at the bassinet, then back at Beca who manages to adopt her own wide-eyed expression.

“I–” Chloe seems torn between leaving and staying.  Beca refuses to budge.

“Looks like she doesn’t want you to go either,” Beca says, unfortunately unable to maintain a serious tone. She raises her eyebrows expectantly.

That seems to kick Chloe into motion and she basically drops everything on the kitchen counter before striding over to their baby in a few smooth steps. 

Like the first time Beca had seen Chloe cradle Charlotte protectively in her arms, her heart flutters at the sight of the two most cherished in her life, framed perfectly against the backdrop of the home Beca never thought she could have. Chloe murmurs quietly to Charlie, her head angled down so lovingly and protectively that it causes the warmest of heartaches to bloom in Beca’s chest.

This is what it means to fall in love over and over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C, yours was one of the first donations I received! Thank you so much. Planned Parenthood thanks you. <3
> 
> For everybody else, check out [my tag here](https://isthemusictoblame.tumblr.com/tagged/pp-for-pp) for information and to follow along with the other fics I will be fulfilling/posting.


	43. (M/E) morning after #57

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some morning-afters are reserved for flashbacks and pancakes. Rated M for direct/explicit references to sex, but no actual sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Accompanying GIF set here.](https://isthemusictoblame.tumblr.com/post/187012994764/morning-after-57-11)
> 
> Word count: 722

When Beca awakens, she is first struck by how comfortable the bed is. She floats atop a pillowy mattress and wonders if she could possibly just lay there forever.

Her body aches, but deliciously so. Though Chloe had been far from rough the previous night, she had been thorough and tireless, determined to bring Beca to orgasm after orgasm, as if she had no other goal or objective in life.

Beca hadn’t complained – in fact, she’s sure she had been extremely vocal about how much she enjoyed it. She isn’t really even complaining now, but she can’t help the disgruntled sound that escapes her mouth when it becomes apparent that Chloe is unfortunately not in bed with her to playfully tease her and soothe her aches away (preferably with soft cuddles that might or might not lead to morning sex).

She groans again, this time louder to see if Chloe will return to the bedroom. Listening carefully, she can hear the faintest murmur of music from down the hall. It drifts mutedly through the almost-shut door. Focusing even more, Beca can catch a whiff of coffee and breakfast of some kind. Pancakes? Waffles?

When she stands from the bed, she immediately regrets it because her feet touch cold hardwood…though the slide of soft sheets against her skin immediately jolts her into a memory of the way Chloe’s fingers had trailed up her back. Light like a feather at first, then more firmly as she pressed into the space between Beca’s shoulders.

But in stark contrast to Chloe’s moments of gentleness and tenderness, the memory immediately transforms into something more, running through Beca’s mind like a rush of hot arousal.

Sounds, mostly. The memories are sounds, each more vivid than the last. 

Beca shuts her eyes in the midst of brushing her teeth and heaves a sigh before she reaches out to steady herself on the bathroom counter.

The sound of Chloe fucking her with their strap-on.

A cacophony of sounds, really. Like the sound of Chloe’s breathless grunts, the steady creak of their bed, and the odd rushing sound that passed through Beca’s ears as she gripped onto the metal bars of their bed for dear life.

Beca would not be opposed to a repeat performance in the future.

A clanging sound from the kitchen startles Beca from where she had been lazily brushing her teeth.

Right. Breakfast first. Fantasize about Chloe later. Or coax her back into bed. 

Her stomach grumbles belatedly, like a sharp reminder of what her priorities should be. 

Beca pulls on a tank top and a pair of comfortable sweats. They could be Chloe’s, they could be her own. At this point, she has stopped caring since their wardrobes have steadily merged. 

When she makes her way to the kitchen, the music becomes clearer. Chloe is humming to herself, occasionally singing the words. Her hair is pulled up, exposing her flawless, unmarked neck. Beca tilts her head, feeling the sudden urge to kiss the soft skin available to her, but she doesn’t want to sidle up behind Chloe and startle her, lest she drop the somehow ridiculously large pile of pancakes.

Beca brightens upon seeing a smaller plate of hash browns and reaches out to grab at some. 

“You’re finally up,” Chloe observes when she catches sight of Beca sneaking a few bites of hash browns. “And hungry too.” She grins, taking in Beca’s disheveled appearance. It’s a good look on her.

“Somebody kept me up last night,” Beca says, adding in a sigh at the end. She can’t really do much to stop the smile that slips across her face. A smile which Chloe returns before she takes a sip of coffee. Beca sees the familiar flash of desire in Chloe’s eyes – similar to how she had looked last night when Beca had all but begged for Chloe to just take her on their bed.

She knows exactly what goes through Chloe’s mind when she watches Beca from behind her coffee mug. Her eyes track slowly down Beca’s torso in a heated display of possessiveness and early morning lust.

Beca tries not to fumble under Chloe’s gaze, meeting her stare head-on. She hopes the eagerness doesn’t show too obviously on her face.

“I don’t see you complaining,” Chloe finally says after licking her lips languidly. She places the coffee down, before taking a few strides to stand in front of Beca. “Good morning to you, by the way.” She tilts her head down to press a kiss to Beca’s waiting lips. 

Slowly, steadily, they kiss in their kitchen – in the home they call their own – and Beca lets herself sink into her favourite thing in the whole world: waking up to Chloe Beale.


	44. (T) one for the road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snippets into the life of what it means to date Special Agent Beca Mitchell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [asimplefavors](https://asimplefavors.tumblr.com/) gif-maker extraordinaire and dedicated Anna Kendrick fan. This is not meant to kill u.

##  **one.**

Chloe Beale knew what she signed up for when she started dating Beca Mitchell. A talented FBI agent in her own right, Beca’s skill and talent were often unparalleled in meetings and out on missions. 

Chloe expected a certain amount of drama and anxiety to enter her life regularly because she knew Beca was somebody special. While she could do without the death-defying moments that Beca often somehow subjected herself to – unwittingly or otherwise – Chloe understood it was all part of Beca’s line of work. Hell, Chloe was even willing to look past her own personal politics in regards to some aspects of Beca’s line of work.

It was just hard sometimes, knowing that Beca’s work took such a toll on her.

Ultimately though, Chloe knew how much it made Beca human. How emotional Beca got after receiving upsetting or disturbing intel; how emotional Beca got after a failed mission.

Chloe vowed to be there for it all – at least as much as she could as Beca’s girlfriend who knew very little about what Beca’s line of work actually entailed, beyond the occasional glimpses she got. In all honesty, while Beca’s line of work was often interesting, Chloe hardly found glamour in her girlfriend’s work. She constantly worried and she constantly fretted because seeing Beca in distress and seeing Beca upset was awful on its own.

The thought of anything else happening to Beca...Chloe could die. It makes her heart hurt in previously unimaginable ways.

 

* * *

 

 

##  **two.**

“You honestly shouldn’t be in here,” Beca murmurs, closing her manila folder deftly with one hand while the other hand expertly slides up Chloe’s back, still warm from her earlier shower.

Chloe could care less about the contents of that folder. She knows how many things there are that Beca can’t talk about.

She just wants her girlfriend.

 

* * *

 

##  **three.**

Chloe can see visible dark rings under Beca’s eyes as she slides into Chloe’s car for their dinner date.

“Hey,” Chloe says when Beca finishes buckling her seatbelt. Beca looks up. Chloe smiles lovingly. “C’mere,” she murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss against Beca’s lips.

Beca kisses back immediately, her hand coming up to rest on Chloe’s thigh. Chloe can sense a certain kind of desperation in Beca’s kiss like she is trying to immediately lose herself in Chloe’s touch. For a moment, Chloe obliges and lets Beca’s fingers press into her thigh a little more firmly; she lets Beca’s lips push a little insistently against hers until she parts her mouth to let Beca’s tongue graze hers.

For a moment, Chloe honestly forgets about the rest of the world itself – forgets about what it means whenever they’re not together.

And then the moment ends and Beca is leaning back into her seat, eyelids fluttering.

“Hello,” she murmurs a little dazedly into the quiet of Chloe’s car.

Chloe grins, ignoring Beca’s previous despondent demeanor for a moment. She is pleased enough by Beca’s reaction.

They have all the time in the world to talk.

 

 

* * *

 

 

##  **four.**

Chloe considers the first moment of intimacy between them to be the first time Beca broke down in her arms, crying heavily and openly. Her normally steely demeanor, marked by steel-blue eyes which rarely belied her true emotions, had cracked and then shattered all at once in Chloe’s arms.

Chloe had wrapped herself around Beca’s small frame – somehow smaller – and simply held her until the sobs subsided and Beca managed to choke out a series of embarrassed-sounding apologies.

“You can talk to me,” Chloe had promised, choking back her own tears. It had surprised her how much it hurt to see Beca so upset. “You don’t have to be specific about anything if you can’t, but just tell me about what you’re feeling.” She felt Beca’s grip tighten in her shirt. “Anything,” she promises in a voice so soft it barely comes out as a whisper.

It had taken Beca a few minutes, but when she spoke again, it had simply been three words and Chloe’s heart had broken.

“I’m a failure,” Beca had whispered.

 

 

* * *

 

 

##  **four and a half.**

Beca Mitchell is decidedly not failure, for the record.

She does sometimes fail at seeing how much Chloe loves her, too caught up in her own head. But Chloe never tires of reminding her in the same way Beca never tires of reminding Chloe in her own Beca way.

 

* * *

 

 

##  **five.**

It feels like hours, but Beca finally manages to leave the building. After providing adequate answers for her supervising agent’s report, she wants nothing more than to go home.

It almost makes her want to laugh, how dependent she is on Chloe. The thought of home isn’t her own apartment. It’s Chloe’s. Chloe’s apartment which is warm and inviting and always has a stock of Beca’s favorite coffee.

As she steps out further into the still-busy parking lot, she feels a chill rush over her as memories from the night steadily stream through her mind in an organized manner. Her hands begin to shake, like she can still feel the heavy, solid weight of her gun in her hands – a gun Beca barely enjoys holding – and the fear that had rushed through her.

She had briefly imagined if she never made it home to tell Chloe how sorry she was for making fun of her chili. The had, in the moment, been the most obscure and abstract thought Beca had ever conceived while on a mission, but that only served to remind Beca how much she had to live for.

She feels a gaze on her before she sees it and looks up to see Chloe walking towards her, looking so much like an angel to Beca in that moment. A concerned, sad-looking angel, but an angel nonetheless.

She has to look away for a moment because Chloe is staring at her with that expression that Beca has come to both love and hate – like she knows that Beca’s mind is working a million clicks per second to try and figure out all the ways she went wrong.

(Chloe’s voice in her mind is steady: “You’re a human, Beca – my favorite human nonetheless – and I will never love you less. I wish you wouldn’t be so hard on yourself when things don’t work out. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

Her own voice, parrying back, a little shaky: “I’m not a good person, Chlo.”

“None of us are, not really.”)

“What are you doing here?” Beca asks in wonder. Her mind pauses to take a moment to drink Chloe in as well.

“Picking up my girlfriend from work so we can get a late dinner. Aubrey called,” Chloe offers, referring to Beca’s boss who somehow likes Chloe way more than she likes Beca. Typical.

“Don’t you have…a shift?” Beca asks, too tired to add on more to her inquiry.

Chloe smiles in that spectacularly sad and loving way that only the Chloe Beales of the world know how to do. “Do you know what time it is, Bec?” Chloe asks gently.

Beca had only been aware of the seconds that had passed before her partner had squeezed the trigger. It had felt like hours.

“Late,” she offers finally at Chloe’s concerned expression.

“Definitely,” Chloe laughs. She finally steps in front of Beca. She fingers the heavy fabric of Beca’s vest. “Don’t you need to return this?”

Beca glances down, realizing belatedly that she’s still decked out completely in her mission attire. “Oh,” she mumbles.

Chloe frowns when she feels the bandages on Beca’s hand. “What happened?”

It makes Beca sigh because she knows how much Chloe truly hates hearing about the various injuries she occasionally receives while out in the field. “It’s just a scratch,” she promises (lying a little). “They maybe went a little overboard with the bandages.” She touches her vest. “I should get this off.”

“Wait,” Chloe says before Beca can turn around to head back inside. “One for the road,” she says like she always does whenever they have to part (No matter how long their separation, Chloe always does this. Beca loves it.). She pulls Beca in for a quick kiss and like every time they kiss, Beca feels all the world melt away, like the sensation of a much-needed warm shower washing over her.

It makes Beca feel like she can finally go home.


End file.
